This message was originally delivered at West Richmond Friends Meeting on November 10, 2019.
Mark 8:31-37 NRSV
Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”
He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life?
So, what comes to mind when you hear the word Satan?
For me, it’s easy to imagine the red, horned figure wielding a pitchfork.
This is really the satan I grew up with. A tempter who was always lurking in my thoughts to lure me toward bad thoughts and evil actions - away from the life Jesus wanted me to choose but which I was too often too weak to live up to.
Maybe that meant making fun of people, disrespecting my parents, enjoying secular music that didn’t feature uplifting themes, etc., etc.
I always had to be on guard against the corrupting influence of culture really engaged in spiritual warfare against me and my God.
Mark 8:31-37 NRSV
Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”
He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life?
So, what comes to mind when you hear the word Satan?
For me, it’s easy to imagine the red, horned figure wielding a pitchfork.
This is really the satan I grew up with. A tempter who was always lurking in my thoughts to lure me toward bad thoughts and evil actions - away from the life Jesus wanted me to choose but which I was too often too weak to live up to.
Maybe that meant making fun of people, disrespecting my parents, enjoying secular music that didn’t feature uplifting themes, etc., etc.
I always had to be on guard against the corrupting influence of culture really engaged in spiritual warfare against me and my God.
In my more mature years, I might move in a more nuanced direction - seeing satan as perhaps a shadowy figure who plays a negative role in my personal life and world events.
Or, I might simply dispense with the whole idea of Satan and the Satanic altogether, preferring instead a more rational worldview that thinks of evil not in personified terms but more as systemic, structural forces undermining human flourishing.
In this scenario, my task as a Christian, or a Friend, or just a decent human being might be to identify sources of human suffering and seek ways to alleviate them.
My goal, then, is in part one of discernment - of the many barriers to flourishing, what am I called to address with my available time, energy, intellect, and resources?
I actually think this isn’t too far from my perspective not all that long ago, and, if I’m honest, it’s probably still not all that far off from where I still find myself.
Recently, though, I was challenged to reconsider the nature of the demonic and its influence in my life and the lives of others.
At the suggestion of a friend, I recently began working through Paul Hessert’s book, “Christ and the End of Meaning.”
Now, this book is out of print, hard to track down, and very expensive when you can find it. The current low offer on Amazon for a used copy, for instance, is $149.
Thankfully, a friendly fellow theology nerd posted a PDF copy on Facebook.
I hope that sort of copyright infringement isn’t too scandalous for this audience. I also hope that Paul, wherever he is, might appreciate me plugging his work here this morning and let it slide.
The book is rich with new insights and interpretation about just what the work of Jesus was about and what the call of Christianity can and should mean.
I will focus on a particular insight that hit me like a ton of bricks, and that I think has special relevance for Friends.
In Chapter 3 of the book, Hessert zeroes in on the nature of power.
He doesn’t let those of us without a great deal of power off the hook, though.
In some ways, his analysis of the corrupting influence of power harkens back to my early understanding of the demonic.
I think, though, his concern has to do less with whether we gossip about a work colleague or eat that Twinkie we know we shouldn’t, and more with something more insidious - the desire to achieve good ends in the world.
“The demonic seizure and use of power is rarely for flagrant wickedness,” argues Hessert. “Rather,” he says, “it is manifest in the much more extensive and subtle assumption that power is to be used to carry out the program of the self. Authority is satanically defined as the ability to control and use power for one’s own ends, especially lofty ends.
Whoa.
What is he saying here?
That my desire to bring about something good can be twisted into something evil?
Why, I take offense at that!
And that’s where I get caught.
My own self-righteousness excuses my behavior because, after all, the ends justify the means.
I take this as an opportunity for self-examination.
In what ways do I justify the pursuit and use of power to wield that power over others because I know what’s best for them?
It’s interesting to look at Jesus’ comments to his disciple Peter in this regard - and Hessert makes note of this. Jesus calls his friend satan.
I think that must have been shocking at the time.
I think we should still be shocked by this.
Peter is rebuked for following an agenda he has set rather than the agenda of God. And it’s an agenda Peter thinks is best for Jesus...and himself.
And yet, it’s important to also note that Jesus also does not cut off his relationship with Peter. Peter contains within him the capacity for satanic action, and Jesus calls him out for it.
He then turns to the crowd and cautions them against world-building and toward submission to divine leading.
I think this ought to be a source of introspection for Friends, who have been historically and continue to be engaged in the pursuit of a better world - as they see it - through moral persuasion and legislation.
I’ve also been reading a fascinating history of Colonial-era America and this is one of the big takeaways: long before the Revolutionary War and its own moral quandaries, every religious and political faction was sure that their approach was not only best, but divinely mandated, that they had no qualms about cruelty, torture, and murder to bring about their shining cities on the hill.
Thankfully, we can sit with the moral superiority and clarity the intervening years provide to judge their foolishness.
Right?
Or maybe, just maybe, if we’re willing to admit it, we are subject to the same evil urges - whether or not we’re comfortable calling them satanic or demonic.
Just as there is that seed of God within us, might there be that within us as part of our human reality that always allows us to see ourselves in the best light because of the aims we seek, despite the harm our actions might cause before the end is reached?
The psychologist Albert Bandura labeled this phenomenon “moral disengagement” - when we distance ourselves from the negative impact of our decisions by recasting ourselves as heroes rather than villains.
I don’t mean to be too hard on Quakers for this. I think moral example-setting can and has been a powerful force in history.
But we know from recent historical work that the noble work of Friends against slavery and for Native Americans, for instance, was also tarnished by the lack of relationality and true equality we were willing to extend.
Are these isolated cases? Perhaps.
Thankfully, I do think Friends have a tool in group discernment that can serve to check these impulses.
It doesn’t get us entirely off the hook, as groups can also be subject to these temptations, but it does offer a source of hope from the wisdom of our tradition.
Perhaps even more importantly, recall that Jesus did not cast Peter out.
Peter even became, as you might remember, the rock upon which the church was built.
How’s that for irony?
First, though, Peter had to set aside his desire to create a world according to the best of his understanding.
Instead his call was to operate as a weak force in the world inviting others into the kingdom rather than seeking to conquer them as the world might.
This tells me that our capacity for evil, even our capacity to exist in the world as satan ourselves, is not enough to separate us from the love of God or our ability to be agents of that love and healing to others.
For what will it profit us to gain the whole world and forfeit our lives in the process?
Or, I might simply dispense with the whole idea of Satan and the Satanic altogether, preferring instead a more rational worldview that thinks of evil not in personified terms but more as systemic, structural forces undermining human flourishing.
In this scenario, my task as a Christian, or a Friend, or just a decent human being might be to identify sources of human suffering and seek ways to alleviate them.
My goal, then, is in part one of discernment - of the many barriers to flourishing, what am I called to address with my available time, energy, intellect, and resources?
I actually think this isn’t too far from my perspective not all that long ago, and, if I’m honest, it’s probably still not all that far off from where I still find myself.
Recently, though, I was challenged to reconsider the nature of the demonic and its influence in my life and the lives of others.
At the suggestion of a friend, I recently began working through Paul Hessert’s book, “Christ and the End of Meaning.”
Now, this book is out of print, hard to track down, and very expensive when you can find it. The current low offer on Amazon for a used copy, for instance, is $149.
Thankfully, a friendly fellow theology nerd posted a PDF copy on Facebook.
I hope that sort of copyright infringement isn’t too scandalous for this audience. I also hope that Paul, wherever he is, might appreciate me plugging his work here this morning and let it slide.
The book is rich with new insights and interpretation about just what the work of Jesus was about and what the call of Christianity can and should mean.
I will focus on a particular insight that hit me like a ton of bricks, and that I think has special relevance for Friends.
In Chapter 3 of the book, Hessert zeroes in on the nature of power.
He doesn’t let those of us without a great deal of power off the hook, though.
In some ways, his analysis of the corrupting influence of power harkens back to my early understanding of the demonic.
I think, though, his concern has to do less with whether we gossip about a work colleague or eat that Twinkie we know we shouldn’t, and more with something more insidious - the desire to achieve good ends in the world.
“The demonic seizure and use of power is rarely for flagrant wickedness,” argues Hessert. “Rather,” he says, “it is manifest in the much more extensive and subtle assumption that power is to be used to carry out the program of the self. Authority is satanically defined as the ability to control and use power for one’s own ends, especially lofty ends.
Whoa.
What is he saying here?
That my desire to bring about something good can be twisted into something evil?
Why, I take offense at that!
And that’s where I get caught.
My own self-righteousness excuses my behavior because, after all, the ends justify the means.
I take this as an opportunity for self-examination.
In what ways do I justify the pursuit and use of power to wield that power over others because I know what’s best for them?
It’s interesting to look at Jesus’ comments to his disciple Peter in this regard - and Hessert makes note of this. Jesus calls his friend satan.
I think that must have been shocking at the time.
I think we should still be shocked by this.
Peter is rebuked for following an agenda he has set rather than the agenda of God. And it’s an agenda Peter thinks is best for Jesus...and himself.
And yet, it’s important to also note that Jesus also does not cut off his relationship with Peter. Peter contains within him the capacity for satanic action, and Jesus calls him out for it.
He then turns to the crowd and cautions them against world-building and toward submission to divine leading.
I think this ought to be a source of introspection for Friends, who have been historically and continue to be engaged in the pursuit of a better world - as they see it - through moral persuasion and legislation.
I’ve also been reading a fascinating history of Colonial-era America and this is one of the big takeaways: long before the Revolutionary War and its own moral quandaries, every religious and political faction was sure that their approach was not only best, but divinely mandated, that they had no qualms about cruelty, torture, and murder to bring about their shining cities on the hill.
Thankfully, we can sit with the moral superiority and clarity the intervening years provide to judge their foolishness.
Right?
Or maybe, just maybe, if we’re willing to admit it, we are subject to the same evil urges - whether or not we’re comfortable calling them satanic or demonic.
Just as there is that seed of God within us, might there be that within us as part of our human reality that always allows us to see ourselves in the best light because of the aims we seek, despite the harm our actions might cause before the end is reached?
The psychologist Albert Bandura labeled this phenomenon “moral disengagement” - when we distance ourselves from the negative impact of our decisions by recasting ourselves as heroes rather than villains.
I don’t mean to be too hard on Quakers for this. I think moral example-setting can and has been a powerful force in history.
But we know from recent historical work that the noble work of Friends against slavery and for Native Americans, for instance, was also tarnished by the lack of relationality and true equality we were willing to extend.
Are these isolated cases? Perhaps.
Thankfully, I do think Friends have a tool in group discernment that can serve to check these impulses.
It doesn’t get us entirely off the hook, as groups can also be subject to these temptations, but it does offer a source of hope from the wisdom of our tradition.
Perhaps even more importantly, recall that Jesus did not cast Peter out.
Peter even became, as you might remember, the rock upon which the church was built.
How’s that for irony?
First, though, Peter had to set aside his desire to create a world according to the best of his understanding.
Instead his call was to operate as a weak force in the world inviting others into the kingdom rather than seeking to conquer them as the world might.
This tells me that our capacity for evil, even our capacity to exist in the world as satan ourselves, is not enough to separate us from the love of God or our ability to be agents of that love and healing to others.
For what will it profit us to gain the whole world and forfeit our lives in the process?