What it Means to be a Savior

“May I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me and I to the world.”

When we think of a savior, what comes to mind? Maybe we think of gods among men, indestructible people who can fly us out of a burning building. Maybe we think of a regular person who shows extraordinary courage in order to rescue someone from danger—like a lifeguard or police officers, or those courageous men and women who jumped into the action at 9/11. Maybe you’re Ryan Reynolds thinking you’re going to save all of Disney Marvel. What does it take to be a savior? Great feats of heroism? Great courage? Red spandex?

I think a lot of times when we hear this Gospel passage, whether it’s Mark’s version as we heard today, or it’s Matthew or Luke’s version, many preachers will want to ask you, the congregants, “Who do you all say Jesus is?” But I think this weekend’s readings, when read together, pose a different question. Peter professes that Jesus is the Christ…but what does it mean to be “Christ”? Or, if Hebrew is more your flavor rather than Greek, what does it mean to be a “Messiah”?

St. Peter was halfway right when he called Jesus the Christ. But what he was expecting was Superman. What he was taught to expect was some kind of political uprising against the Roman Empire to establish a new Kingdom of David on earth. But notice how Jesus warns the disciples not to say anything about him being the Christ…but then St. Mark specifically says that Jesus spoke openly about how the Son of Man must suffer greatly. He hushes them about his identity as the Christ, but he spoke openly about his mission as the Son of Man…are you picking up what I’m saying?

Simon Peter did. It’s why he took Jesus aside. It’s why Simon attempts to rebuke Jesus privately. “Hey man, maybe you shouldn’t go around saying stuff like that. You’re scaring the boys. You’re scaring them.” And that’s why the Lord has to call Simon “Satan.” In this very moment, Simon is a seducer, a gainsayer. For Simon, the fairy tale ending is that we get through life safe and sound, with no suffering; no one gets hurt, everyone is happy. He’s not open at this moment to hearing anything different; he’s not open about being generous with his life nor with Jesus’s life.

Today, even though we’re celebrating the 24th Sunday in Ordinary Time, today is also the feast of Our Lady of Sorrows. Now, I think we often confuse sorrow with sadness, specifically the self-pitying kind of sadness. Think of the rich young man who came to Jesus asking what he needed to do to be saved. Jesus tells him to sell everything he has and follow him, and the young man went away sad. But that kind of sadness does not describe Mary’s sadness, not even her sorrow for her Son.

Our blessed Mother mourned her Son, yes. But to mourn is a beatitude: “Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted.” Mourning, biblically speaking, is only possible because of love. A heart that mourns is a heart that loves. And love is generous. Mary stood at the foot of the Cross, not because she felt sorry for herself, not because she felt bad for her Son, but because she knew his destiny. And because she knew his destiny, she could, in union with his own offering, she could freely offer her Son to us, for us.

Peter didn’t know what the Christ was; he didn’t know Jesus’s destiny. So, Peter had difficulty freely giving up his Master for us. But Jesus had to teach him and the other disciples: “Oh buddy, you’re not just giving me up; everyone who follows me has to give himself or herself up. Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.”

Brothers and sisters, that’s why, when this reading comes along, it’s important for us preachers to ask you: Who do you say that Jesus is? If he’s not real, then he’s not worth giving my life to. If he’s just a nice guy, he’s not worth giving up my life for. Even if he’s a super-powered being, he’s not worth dying for. Only if Jesus is the one who rises again, only if Jesus is living now at the right hand of the Father, only if Jesus is God (!) is he worth offering myself totally and freely.

This is the ultimate work that St. James talks about in our second reading: the work of self-denial, the total gift of oneself. We say we believe in God…cool! But how much of ourselves have we given to Him and to His children? We profess that Jesus is the Christ, that we are Christians…wonderful! But are we the kind of people who hope that everything will work out in the end, that we don’t have to lose anything in the process? Unfortunately, that’s not what a Christian is.

I know Fr. Richard has many times called the Christian life “the Way.” But we have to recognize where this Way leads, where this Way ends. It ends there [point to the Cross]. It ends at the Cross. If you’re like Simon Peter and that’s not where you want to go, you’re free to walk out; I won’t blame you, I won’t judge you. If anything, I’d envy you.

But if that’s where you know you need to be, then follow me to the altar. Pray for me and pray withme, because with my own hands I will break the Body of Christ. And in so doing, I’m going to look right into the mirror, right into the abyss of where we all need to be. We need to freely give ourselves, willing to be broken, just as Jesus continues to freely give himself, willing to be broken even now. That’s what it means to be a Christian; that’s what it means to be a messiah; that’s what it means to be a savior. If that’s something you’re interested in becoming, then come with me to the altar of God.