Michael Seiler

Month: February 2024

  • Get Behind Me

    Several years ago, the editor in chief of Christianity Today recounted several conversations that he had had with pastors in his denomination. The pastors told him that when they preached from the Sermon on the Mount – you know, things like “Blessed are the meek,” “Blessed are the peacemakers,” “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you,” or especially, “Turn the other cheek.” When they preached from the Sermon on the Mount, people would come up to them afterwards and say, “Where did you get those liberal talking points?” But when the pastors would say, “I was literally just quoting the words of Jesus,” the people would not say, “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize that.” Instead, they would say something to the effect of, “Okay, but that won’t work anymore. That’s weak.”1

    This is essentially what Peter did with Jesus in today’s Gospel. Peter, and most other people of his time hated the Roman oppressors in their land, and they were expecting a messiah that would come in with a mighty fist and power unseen before, and wipe out the enemies of Israel.

    But then Jesus starts talking about how the Son of Man must suffer and die for the sake of all humanity, and Peter begins to rebuke him, essentially saying, “That’s not going to work, Jesus. That’s weak.”

    And we see how well that worked out for Peter.

    “Get behind me Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”

    Get behind me Satan! When we hear that we may immediately think that what Jesus is saying is, “Get outta here!” “Scram!” or “Buzz off!” But that’s not what Jesus is saying to Peter at all. He is reminding Peter to align himself in the proper order, to literally get behind Jesus. You see, Peter had an agenda, and he wanted to make sure that Jesus did what Peter wanted. In other words, he wanted Jesus to stand behind him, to follow him, and not the other way around. 

    Last week we heard about Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness. And in Matthew’s Gospel, when Jesus is tempted by the devil, he says, “Away with you Satan!” He doesn’t tell the devil to get behind him like he tells Peter, he simply tells Satan to go, to leave him. And Satan leaves him.

    There’s an interesting lesson that we can learn from these two interactions between Jesus and Satan, and Jesus and Peter.

    When Jesus rebukes Satan and commands him to leave, Satan leaves. He does as Christ says. Christ is superior to Satan and his minions, and they obey him, even though they don’t want to. I won’t unpack that any more, as I imagine you realize the implications of that for your own life.

    Secondly, when Jesus rebukes Peter, he is making us aware that we can do the work of evil in this world, simply by trying to push through our own agendas. That is, we know what God’s agenda is for humanity, and when we impose our own wills over and against the will of God, we can be seen as acting for – or at the very least – allowing evil to manifest in the world.

    If we look in the Book of Common Prayer, in the Catechism, we are told that “the mission of the church is to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ.” And, that the Church pursues its mission as it “promotes justice, peace, and love.” And finally, that the ministers of the church, which include everyone, not just those curious ordained folk, but everyone, is to “carry on Christ’s work of reconciliation in the world.”

    Reconciliation. That is a word we often hear only in Lent, when we are reminded that the Episcopal Church does in fact have the Rite of Reconciliation, which most people know of as Confession.

    This work of reconciliation is what happens when Jesus turns to Peter and says, “Get behind me Satan!” He convicts Peter of Peter’s wrong motivations, but then offers him the reconciling gesture that Peter might subordinate himself to Christ, and get behind him, or follow him. Or, to put it more bluntly: You have made an error Peter, but you are still my disciple. Get behind me, and follow me, and follow my teachings.

    Reconciliation, however, encompasses more than just a personal forgiveness of sins and a reconciliation of ourselves to God. The work of Reconciliation that the church is called to, and we ourselves are called to, is to reconcile not just the world to God, but to reconcile ourselves to each other; to promote peace; to promote love; and to promote justice.

    When we fail to do those things, when we allow our own agendas to take over our thoughts, our minds, and our actions; when we allow our own agendas to supersede the work of Christ in this world; when we allow our own agendas to creep up and push out the reconciling work of the Church; when our own agenda causes us apathy and indifference to war, to bigotry and to injustice simply because it doesn’t affect us personally – that is when we find ourselves allowing the work of evil in this world. Or worse, by simply aligning ourselves with those who promote war, bigotry and injustice, even if we don’t say or do anything ourselves, we may find ourselves actively working for those terrible evils in this world. And then, we might just hear Jesus saying the same words to us as he did to Peter: “Get behind me Satan!”

    The Good News is that it never just ends there. Just like Peter did, we too can get behind Jesus. We can accept the offer of reconciliation from Christ, and align ourselves with God’s mission in this world, and follow the teachings of Christ even when we find them more difficult than doing our own thing. 

    And that is when things will really get exciting.

    We know from our reading of Scripture that Peter did a few more things that were rather impulsive, and contrary to Jesus’ work – things like cutting off a man’s ear, or denying that he even knew Jesus – but in the end, Peter was known as one of the leaders of the Church. 

    This was what Jesus was talking about after having corrected Peter. He tells all his disciples that if they want to be his disciples, they must take up their crosses and follow Him. We must deny ourselves, and lose our lives. Not literally, mind you. Specifically, we must lose those things that work against God’s mission in this world; a mission that we are all called to; a mission of striving for peace, of striving for justice, of sharing God’s love, so that together we continue Christ’s work of reconciling the world to God.

    Our agendas need to be placed on the cross and sacrificed for the greater good of God’s redeeming work in this world. When we lose our lives for the sake of the Gospel, that is when we find it, Jesus says. What will it profit us if we follow our own agendas and “gain the whole world,” as he says; that is, what good is it if we are powerful enough to run the world, but forfeit our lives by thinking of the things of man, rather than the things of heaven?

    One of the best known saints in our canon was a wealthy young playboy who stood to inherit his father’s immense wealth. He spent his youth living an irresponsible life, caring only for his own desires. At the time, joining the military was considered “glamorous,” and so he joined up. But after spending a year as a prisoner of war, he had a profound change of heart, a conversion. He renounced his former life of extravagance after seeing how the poor in his city lived, and then dedicated his life to helping the sick, the homeless, and to rebuilding churches in and around his hometown.

    Here was a young man who had, by all accounts, all the trappings of this world, from riches, power, prestige, and the freedom to search for pleasure and meaning by whatever means he fancied. But instead of continuing to live for himself, he surrendered everything, took a vow of poverty, and dedicated himself to the work of God. 

    Some might say he lost his life for the sake of the Gospel. He willingly surrendered his position of power and wealth for poverty and weakness.

    Some of you may have already realized that I am talking about St. Francis of Assisi. And you may know that through his work he founded a religious order that has changed the world with its focus on serving the poor and the marginalized.

    Imagine if he had never surrendered those things to God, and instead had sought to preserve his lifestyle at all costs? He would have remained just a blip in the history of Assisi, another playboy going about the business of pursuing his own pleasure, constantly trying to find out who he was meant to be, but never finding out God’s true purpose for his life.

    For St. Francis, Jesus telling him to “Get behind me” meant that he had to give up his wealth and power. But for each of us, the idea of “Get behind me” means something entirely different, and it is something that only we can know for ourselves. It does not have to mean giving up wealth, or prestige, as it did for Francis. It can mean something entirely different to you than it did to Francis, or your neighbor in the pew next to you.But I can tell you, that when we hand over those things that we still want to control for ourselves, when we hand over the reins to God and make God’s agenda our own agenda, that is when we begin to flourish and thrive, when we begin to grow into the joy of God’s ultimate plan for our lives. We may not become saints like Peter and Francis, but we will be living in joy and purpose when God says, “Get behind me,” and we say, “Sure thing, Lord.”

    1. The New Republic, August 10, 2023

    [This sermon was delivered at St. Alban’s Episcopal Church in Wickenburg, AZ on February 25, 2024.]

  • What’s my motivation?

    Have you ever seen an actor ask, “What’s my motivation?” Usually it’s in a comedy movie, poking fun at various actors who take their craft a bit too seriously. The particular acting strategy that uses this is called method acting, and method acting is particularly well known for asking the actors to get into the mind of the character and try to understand the psychological motivations behind what they are doing.

    Now, you might be wondering why I’m talking about acting during Ash Wednesday, particularly when the Gospel reading seems to be all about hypocrisy.

    The reason for it, is that in Matthew’s gospel, the word that is translated as “hypocrites” is actually the word for “stage actors.” … That’s right. “Stage Actors.”

    You can see the link between stage actors and hypocrites if you look at what hypocrites do. A hypocrite will look you in the eye and tell you the one thing that they consider to be their highest priority in life, and they will speak with passion about how to accomplish these things, they will adamantly profess that others must hold their lives to the same standards as what they profess, and they will judge those who fail to do so. … All while they do the exact opposite of what they profess so passionately and loudly.

    In essence, they are acting. They are getting into the mind of someone who truly believes, and they are professing what they think needs to be professed, but they are only acting. And when the audience is gone, when the audience is no longer watching, then they do as they please. And usually directly contrary to what they profess to be true.

    And as long as they don’t get caught, then, as the Gospel says, “they have received their reward.” If it is the accolades and praise of people they want, then as long as they are able to keep up the front, they will have received what they were looking for. If what they are trying to do is to “look good,” and if they have managed it, then by all means, let them rejoice in “looking good.”

    But this is neither the purpose of Lent, nor the desire of God for our lives. This passage in the Gospel of Matthew tells us that what we do, we ought to do in secret. Not for the accolades of others, but for the Father, who sees in secret, and who will reward us.

    In other words, we are to ask, “What’s my motivation?” 

    We are to turn our judgements not outward, but inward, and question ourselves and why we do the things we do. Are we motivated more by the trappings of this world? Or are we motivated by those things that bring about the Kingdom of God in this world? That is, are we motivated by power, control, wealth and prestige? Or are we motivated by the Good News of Christ, and the joys of our salvation?

    Now. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that any of the things of this world are inherently wrong or sinful. Not at all. It is the direction of our hearts that Jesus is concerned about. This Gospel passage today comes at the tail end of the Sermon on the Mount, in which Jesus says things like, ‘You have heard it said … but I say to you.” And in each case he takes away the dichotomy of right and wrong, and presents us with another option. Rather than doing things out of the fear of punishment, we are to do them from a place of compassion, and a love for God and our neighbors – whether or not we receive any recognition for what we do.

    In other words, we are to ask, “What’s my motivation?”

    Today is Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent. We spend this season of penitence seeking to understand ourselves in the light of God’s mercy and grace, and what our response to that mercy and grace should be.

    The traditional display of repentance in the Old Testament was to wear sackcloth and put ashes on one’s head. It was an outward display that said: “I have sinned, and I am attempting to repent of my wrong, and to adjust the motivation of my heart.”

    As we come forward today to receive our ashes, if we recognize that some of our motivations in life have missed the mark of loving God and our neighbor, let us repent and seek restoration with God and our neighbor, remembering that when we do, God is faithful and just, and will forgive us of all our sins.

    [This sermon was delivered at St. Alban’s Episcopal Church in Wickenburg, AZ on February 14, 2024.]

  • Points of View

    Epiphany began with the birth of a child in Bethlehem, and Epiphany always ends with the Transfiguration of Christ. There is a reason for this. Epiphanies are moments where the nature of God is revealed to us in the person of Jesus Christ. The birth of Christ is easier to unpack, because it is “Immanuel,” or “Christ with us.” It identifies Christ with us – as one of us. Human, just as we are.

    So what are we to do with the transfiguration? In the presence of the disciples, Jesus is joined by Moses and Elijah, and his clothes begin to shine a dazzling white, so white that no bleach could ever get them so clean. What does this transformation tell us about Jesus, and more importantly, about ourselves? 

    To begin with, we learn about Jesus’ identity. If we read the passages that precede the transfiguration – and we really do need to read the passages immediately preceding this one to truly understand the importance of the transfiguration for Jesus’ disciples – we see that Jesus has been healing people and casting out demons; he healed Jairus’ daughter, and cured a woman’s years-long hemorrhage; he fed a group of five thousand people, and then a group of four thousand people; he calmed a storm with just his words, and he walked on water. 

    He did miracles. Great things.

    So it’s no wonder, just before going up the mountain, that when Jesus asked his disciples “Who do you say that I am?” Peter quickly answered, “You are the Christ.”

    We have the luxury of looking at historical events, but Peter and the other disciples had to see things for themselves for the first time, and make up their minds about Jesus. Was he just another charismatic teacher, or was he truly the Christ?

    When Jesus was joined by Moses – the giver of the law and the liberator of the people of Israel – and also joined by Elijah – the first of the great prophets, and one whose appearance had long been connected with the coming of the messiah – that is when his identity was confirmed to Peter, James and John. … Jesus truly was the Messiah.

    This is the epiphany, the nature and mission of Christ is revealed to those three disciples in this transfiguration on the mountaintop. And it is revealed to those of us hearing the story after the fact. Jesus is the messiah, the chosen one of Israel, the salvation of all humanity. 

    But what does the identity of Jesus of Nazareth as the messiah reveal to us about ourselves? We most definitely are not the messiah, so we are unlikely to be joined by Moses and Elijah and be transfigured on the top of a mountain.  

    As with many of the stories we encounter in the Gospels, Peter’s responses tend to be the example that so many of us can relate to.

    Peter had seen so many miracles and acts of mighty power, that he was able to very easily slip into believing that Jesus was what most people hoped for in the Messiah. He was to be a mighty warrior, a king even. One who would crush the oppressive forces of Rome and others, and liberate Israel once and for all. But, again, in a passage just before the transfiguration, when Jesus begins to talk about how the Son of Man must suffer and die and be raised again on the third day, Peter tells him off. That can’t be! This is not how it’s supposed to happen!

    And Jesus says, “Get behind me satan!” You’re not thinking of the things of God, instead you’re focused on things that humanity wants. You want power and control. You want wealth and prestige. You don’t want what God wants, Peter. 

    How often can we find ourselves thinking the same things? We seek power, control, wealth and prestige. And we value them more than the things of heaven, more than the things of God.

    The second thing that Peter does that we might see in ourselves is that when Jesus is transfigured before them, and is standing in the dazzling light with Moses and Elijah, Peter says, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here: let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” Mark tells us: He did not know what to say, for they were terrified (Mark 9:5-6).

    Talk about a head scratcher. Why would Peter want to build something?

    Because it’s practical. It’s something he knows how to do. It’s something that would allow him to feel in control of the situation, and focus his mind on something that doesn’t terrify him. It provides a certain level of comfort in a situation that is beyond any perspective he has ever encountered.

    Have we ever done the same? When confronted with things that terrify us, that dig at our hearts and claw their way into those dark recesses of our mind where our little child sits huddled in a corner, have we then reverted to trying to do things ourselves? To take control of the situation in any way that we know how? Have we sought ways to regain power and control in circumstances that call for changing our viewpoint, rather than changing our situation through our own means?

    The voice from heaven that says, “This is my beloved son! Hear him!” is that reminder for Peter that all of those things that Jesus said about the Son of Man needing to suffer, to die, and to be raised again are true and it is meant to reveal both the nature of Jesus, and the mission of Christ in the world. It is meant to let them all know that God will accomplish what God wants, despite our desires and preferences, and that Jesus is showing them a new perspective on the work of the Messiah in this world.

    You really need to admire the beauty of how Mark put these stories together that lead up to the transfiguration. It poses all of these questions of Jesus’ identity in just a few passages; questions that people both then and now still have; questions that even Jesus’ own disciples had to begin with; it poses all these questions in a few small stories just before the nature and mission of Christ are revealed. It starts off with, Who am I? You are the christ. What am I here to do? To destroy the world with mighty power and bring about the salvation of Israel. Wrong! Get behind me satan! The messiah will suffer, die, and be raised again three days later. And if you want to follow me, you will need to lose your life – your identity – because if you give up your life for the sake of the Gospel, you will find your life and who God has truly made you to be! And then … Jesus goes off and gets transfigured, and the disciples freak out.

    And here’s the beauty of what that means to us, and to all the hearers of this gospel that came before us. Those who hear it know about the transformation that took place among Peter and the other disciples – from scared fishermen, to bold, courageous fishers of men, men who changed the world preaching the Good News of Jesus Christ – and then they think: this too can happen to me.

    We too will transform. That is what this passage, the entirety of this Gospel, of all the Gospels, really, the Good News of Jesus the Christ is all about – we will transform, and ever more change into the likeness of God, if we allow God to change our perspective, and see the world as God sees it – one where power, control, wealth and prestige are things to be lost, to be surrendered, for the sake of the Gospel. 

    The words from the collect today, “Grant us that we … be changed into his likeness from glory to glory” come from the Apostle Paul’s second letter to the Coritnthians. And what Paul means by that word “glory” is that we will be transformed each time more of the identity of God is revealed to us. That is, each time we have an epiphany and experience a change in our perspective of who God is, and understand just how that perspective of God relates to our own identity, that is when we are transformed more into the likeness of Christ. That is when our lives will take the shape that God has intended for us from before the world began, and when people will see the outward manifestation of our inward change of view.

    This is why the story of the transfiguration comes before Lent. Lent is about detaching ourselves from those things we love more than God. It is about changing our perspective on what we must give up for the sake of the Gospel, for the sake of loving God more dearly. Because when we do give these things up, not only is the nature of God revealed to us more clearly, but we begin the journey of our own transformation from Glory to Glory.

    [This sermon was delivered at St. Alban’s Episcopal Church in Wickenburg, AZ on February 11, 2024.]