SERMON FOR FEBRUARY 28, 2021. TEXT: MARK 8:31-38
     In the year 1530 Emperor Charles V returned to Germany after an absence of almost a decade. In advance of his arrival he sent word to all the German rulers, the various princes, dukes, margraves and electors who governed the numerous states that together made up the Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation. They were to meet him in the city of Augsburg. Turkish forces had come all the way to the gates of Vienna the year before, and Charles was dependent on the military support of his German subjects to ward off a possible invasion. He needed to be able to count on their unity and loyalty in the face of the enemy, and that required settling the “Luther problem” once and for all. 
     However, a lot had happened during his absence. The emperor was dismayed when he realized that what he now had on his hands was an extensive and deeply rooted Lutheran problem. He required an accounting from the rulers who had embraced the reform movement. Charles had no sympathy for what he, as a loyal son of the Roman Catholic Church, could only regard as heresy, but for political reasons he had to give them a hearing.
     Once the Elector of Saxony, who was Luther’s prince, received word of the imperial diet to be held in Augsburg, he set his theologians to work preparing a statement and took them with him to the gathering itself. Luther, however, could not go along. He had been excommunicated and was under imperial ban; it was too dangerous for him to travel outside of his native Saxony. However, he accompanied the party to the border, and before they continued on, he preached to them. His exhortation was later published under the title “Sermon von Leiden und Kreuz,” a sermon on suffering and the cross. 
     Without ever mentioning the Diet directly, Luther prepared his colleagues for the challenge ahead. They would lose everything if the Emperor condemned them, but Luther puts their suffering in surprising perspective. He points to the merchant who leaves home and family to seek profit and the knight who risks his life in battle. Luther even reminds his hearers of their opponents in the Roman Church, who tirelessly try to impose their false teaching. Suffering there inevitably will be, wherever one turns in life. The merchant may risk all and end up bankrupt; the knight may lose his life on the battlefield, and the papists as Luther calls them, will never succeed in bending God’s Word to their will. His friends, then, need not fear, for what they suffer, they bear for the sake of the Gospel. If they are condemned and persecuted by the Emperor, they will still be vindicated and sanctified by the Lord Jesus Christ. People foolishly travel around Europe to view relics of the saints enshrined in cathedrals, believing such devotion to be the stuff of which holiness is made. Luther dismisses this as foolishness and concludes: “Why do we not hold dear the cross and suffering, which are much closer to Christ and touched him more nearly than any garment he wore? They stirred not only his body but his heart as well. So now through the suffering of Christ the suffering of all his saints has also become a holy relic, for it is washed with the passion of Christ. Therefore we should accept all suffering as nothing other than a holy thing, for it is truly sanctified.”
     “If any want to be my followers let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” What God required of Luther’s friends in this moment was clear — that they love God before all else and make an uncompromising confession of the faith that was in them. They were to put aside personal and political concerns, even the very real fear of precipitating a religious civil war in the Empire. They were to risk their lives for the spiritual well-being of their subjects and boldly leave the consequences in God’s hands. For the Gospel was God’s cause, not a matter for political negotiation. This was serious cross-bearing, public, dramatic and dangerous. It had profound consequences for the individuals involved and for the course of European history for generations to come.
     Princes and religious leaders, by virtue of their public office, faced the demands of discipleship on a grand scale. But in Luther’s view the same demands were made of every Christian. All are called to take up their cross. The vast majority of us do so out of the historical limelight. Our witness is not recorded for posterity; still, it leaves its mark. Luther was highly critical of those in his day who created crosses to bear — monks and nuns and the scrupulously pious who designed experiences of self-denial and imposed pain, seeking by these efforts to make themselves holy. Utter foolishness in Luther’s opinion and a waste of time. Everyday life brings such experiences of its own accord. Surely we meet God in the joys of our life, but to know God fully we must dare to meet him in the places we fear and would gladly avoid.
     Look how Jesus cuts Peter down in today’s Gospel — “Get thee behind me, Satan,” he says. Impetuous Peter, as he is often characterized. When Jesus asks the disciples, “Who do you say that I am?”, Peter is the one who boldly  exclaims, “You are the Messiah.” He gets it right but not quite, because when Jesus speaks of his suffering, rejection and death, Peter recoils. 
     Some interpreters attribute his reaction to the fact that he, like many of his compatriots, looked for a leader to deliver them from the tyranny of Roman rule, someone who would restore the fortunes of Israel so long oppressed. Others hear in Peter’s rebuke the horrified response of a friend. He loves Jesus; he cannot bear the thought of such misery befalling him. It chills his blood to hear this good man speak of it with acceptance. Who of us would not react the same way and seek to avert the impending calamity? “. . . the Son of Man must undergo great suffering and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, the scribes and be killed and after three days rise again.” It is that last piece Peter misses — “after three days rise again’” — the same piece that often eludes us in the midst of our pain, and even more so in the suffering of those dear to us. One thing the story of our Lord makes clear is that when your heart is open to love you will suffer for it. For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son and would not take the cup away, even when Jesus pleaded for his help. And Jesus so loved the Father and us that he was obedient, even unto death on a cross. To bear the cross is to hold fast to the promise of rising again not despite our grief and pain but through them. Amen.