A Lectionary Reflection for the people of Thankful Memorial Episcopal Church for worship from home, August 30, 2020, Year A, 13 Pentecost, Proper 17

Exodus 3:1-15
Psalm 105:1-6, 23-26, 45c
Romans 12:9-21
Matthew 16:21-28

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Where I live in Sewanee, there are purple signs all around campus reminding us of the precautions we are to observe to contain the spread of the corona virus in our small community.  My favorite of these signs gives you visual clues for measuring six feet of distance using Sewanee-central items.  So, for example, it tells you that you need to stay “5 baby goats from the University Farm” away from the next person.  Or 26 chilled coffee drinks from the University coffee shop.  Or four academic gowns.  The signs are not hugely helpful to me since I’ve got no idea how big a baby goat runs, but they do make me chuckle a bit.  They remind me of that old adage we use to poke fun at during my Christian camp days – that you’re supposed to “leave room for the Holy Spirit” between you and your date.  The question is, does the Spirit need 5 baby goats worth of space?  More?  Less?

Well, this Sunday’s readings don’t give a precise answer to that question, but they affirm that, measurements aside, we do need to leave a little space for the Spirit. 

Take, for example, Moses’ encounter with God at the burning bush.  When Moses presents himself to God, saying “Here I am,” the first thing God tells Moses is “Come no closer!”  God speaks directly to Moses in this beginning to Moses’ intimate relationship with the God of his ancestors.  But, no matter how close to God Moses feels, no matter how present to Moses God will stay, the expectation remains that the human being will keep a little distance between himself and God as a sign of respect and as a reminder of God’s ultimate otherness, God’s transcendence.  In other words, Moses will always need to leave a little room for the Holy Spirit. 

That idea of giving God some space arises in the twelfth chapter of Paul’s letter to the Romans, too.  In that lovely list of admonitions for living in Christian community, Paul reminds the followers of Jesus to “live peaceably with all” and to treat friends and enemies alike with love, respect and dignity.  “Beloved, never avenge yourselves,” Paul writes, “but leave room for the wrath of God.”

That language about distance shows up particularly in that one verse in this portion of Romans, but I wonder if, in fact, this whole section of the letter describes what it looks like when we all leave room for God’s Spirit to move within and between and among us, not by giving God physical distance, but by opening up the spiritual space for God’s power to act in our lives. 

When we “leave room for the wrath of God,” we give over to God all our hurt and anger and frustrations about others and trust God’s goodness to overcome every evil.  And I think the same thing is true when we leave room for the love of God, too.  When we create space in ourselves and our relationships for divine grace to make itself known, then I expect we will find that our love becomes genuine and we can more easily “hold fast to what is good; love one another with mutual affection… rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer… [and] extend hospitality to strangers.”

So how do we do that?  How do we create space for the Holy Spirit?  How can we attend to the distance we are leaving within our broken humanity for God’s gracious divinity to move? 

I think the answer has less to do with calculating the exact amount of space we should leave between ourselves and God and more to do with being aware of our location in relation to the divine power.  In other words, it’s more about determining direction than measuring distance.

To explain what I mean, we must turn, finally, to the portion of Matthew’s gospel we read this Sunday.  Moments before this exchange between Peter and Jesus, Peter proved himself to be a star student of his rabbi.  You may remember that last week we read that Jesus asked his disciples: “Who do you say that I am?”  And Peter piped up, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” 

But, in the next breath, Jesus goes on to describe precisely what his messiahship entails: “that he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering… and be killed, and on the third day be raised.”  Peter is aghast.  That’s not what he had in mind when he named Jesus as the Messiah!  So, he takes Jesus aside and tries to reason with him.  “You must be mistaken here, Rabbi.  That can’t be what you meant.”  And Jesus responds with words that must have hit Peter like a punch to the gut: “Get behind me, Satan!” he says, “you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”  We might say that Peter is not leaving enough space for God, not giving the divine power enough room to maneuver in the way She wants to go.

But it’s not just about the amount of space that Peter is failing to leave open for God, but his orientation towards God’s Son.  And Jesus’ rebuke of Peter points it out in the clearest terms: “Get behind me.”  It’s not enough that we should leave space for God’s Spirit to move; we must also make sure that we are following the way that She leads.  The problem with Peter’s sidelong “suggestion” to Jesus is that Peter wrongly assumes the lead.  Jesus’ response reorients Peter in his location.  Peter belongs behind Jesus, not in front of him.  Only if Peter is behind the Messiah can the Messiah show him the Way that he is called to go. 

And, we don’t see it in the English translation, but this necessary order is reaffirmed in the next words that Jesus says to all his disciples.  “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”  The words Jesus speaks here are the same exact words he uses to tell Peter to reorient himself “behind me.”  To hear it properly, we might retranslate Jesus’ dialogue a bit.  “Get after me!” he tells Peter.  And a moment later, he invites us, “If any want to come after me, let them deny themselves…”  Like Peter, our place is a good few steps behind Jesus, patterning ourselves after him, following him in the ways he would have us go. 

Now, let’s be honest, Jesus’ instructions about how to create the rightly-oriented space behind him are hard to hear.  In this season of the corona pandemic, of continued racial injustices throughout the world, of political upheaval and deep division in our country and our communities, and natural disasters seemingly at every turn, Jesus’ teaching may not feel like very good news at first. 

But I think it is precisely when we are feeling so weighed down by the world that Jesus’ words can be understood as the grace that they are.  This moment’s crises are so burdensome to us because we fail to remember that our place is behind God, that we are called to give God room to maneuver, that it is not us alone forging our way ahead through the chaos and the brokenness around us, but rather that our place is behind the divine power who leads the way.  Ultimately, through all the changes and chances of this life, if we leave enough space before us for God, then all we must do is follow in Her wake.  Amen.