When you are young and fit and able to do whatever you want, health is simply taken for granted, its just there.  But there comes a time when health and mobility and even mortality come to the fore in our thinking and suddenly we face anxiety over things we had never given so much as a second thought.

It can be quite a dilemma taking to people who find out that they are seriously ill, perhaps even terminally ill, for you can never be quite sure whether to raise the matter or not.  Do they know the gravity of their own situation?  Are they trying to spare my feelings?  Or am I trying to spare theirs?  That window of opportunity to talk about life and death issues can be a very small one so easy to miss, and it may never come round again.

Sometimes we miss the opportunity to speak about the things that really matter because we have an in-built reticence to talk about painful things.  Just like Peter in today’s Gospel reading we want to deny the inevitable.  Part of us wants to say, "You'll be back on your feet in no time.  You’ll be just fine!" even when we’re very well aware that t isn’t going to happen.  And perhaps part of the reason we want to deny the inevitable is because it's more comfortable for us that way.  If we’re able to prevent somebody else facing mortality, then we don't have to face it ourselves either through them or with them.

Perhaps part of us wants to protect the other person.  If they feel they don't want to talk about death even at that very late stage, who am I to decide that they should?

Jesus turns fiercely on Peter.  His anger is apparent, and perhaps at first sight seems out of proportion to Peter's very human reaction.  But it must have been a very painful time for Jesus, when he himself first came face to face with his own approaching death and admitted it to himself.  At such a time the last thing you want is for somebody else to come along and deny the truth you've just discovered.

And perhaps Jesus is saying that truth is more important than indulging our feelings, whatever the motive.  Peter was indulging his own feelings, because he didn't want to step out of the comfort zone into the reality of the truth.  But he probably thought he was speaking for Jesus' sake.

The word Peter uses, translated "rebuke", is the same word used by Jesus when he's driving out demons.  So it seems Peter thought Jesus had gone crazy, just as in another incident Jesus' mother Mary and his brothers came to take him home because they too thought he must be insane (Mark 3:31-35).

And insane it is to go looking for trouble, especially when that trouble inevitably leads to death.  Why on earth didn't Jesus tone down his attitude and his remarks when he saw the hostility of the Pharisees? He could easily have avoided his appalling end if only he'd been more circumspect in his dealings with his elders.

Instead of that, even when he was well aware which way the wind was blowing and could see the inevitable approach of a horrifying death, Jesus seemed to go out of his way to inflame the situation further.  Overturning the tables in the temple precincts (Mark 11:15) was hardly designed to placate his enemies.

But in today's passage he explains why he took this attitude.  It's the difference, he says, between the things of God and the things of human beings.  Our human attitude is totally different to God's attitude.  Peter, as a human being, was setting his mind not on divine things but on human things.  And divine things have a different purpose and motive and end-point to human things.

Since we're all human beings, we can't help but think as human beings think, and there's no sin in that.  The sin is when we're so scared of moving out of the comfortable human zone into the uncomfortable divine zone, that we try to impose our attitude onto those who have somehow managed to reach the stage of thinking more as God thinks.  When we accuse them of being stupid or foolish or insane because their ideas and plans are so terrifying and so painful to us.

It seems that in God's thought, truth is a basic principle, which cannot be overridden.  Truth is more important than feelings, even when those feelings are of pain or hurt or rejection.  The most loving thing Jesus could do for Peter at that time, was to tell him very clearly that he was wrong in what he said, and to tell him why he was wrong.  It comes out as a very harsh and unkind statement to say to a close friend, "Get thee behind me, Satan!" But it was the truth and whatever it looked like; it was spoken in love.

Of course, speaking the truth very often leads to crucifixion.  The truth is so very often painful, and rather than face the pain, many people take umbrage and allow their pride to rule their behaviour.

The fear of this hostile reaction of offence makes it difficult to tell the absolute and total truth, even when we want to.  If somebody asks me, "Do you like my hat?" I'm hardly likely to reply, "No, I think it's hideous and you look terrible!" And if I did reply in such a way, I suspect that although I might be speaking the truth, I might be speaking from malice rather than from love.

So although it's essential to speak the truth, it's also essential to speak the truth in love.  But the truth still leads to crucifixion, even when spoken in love.

And that's what God expects of us, that we will be prepared to face crucifixion for his sake.  Jesus said, "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me." Perhaps he might have said, "If any want to become my followers, let them speak the absolute and total truth in love," for speaking the truth means shouldering your cross and taking the risk of upsetting and hurting other people.

If we set our minds on divine things rather than on human things, then we shall be able to speak the truth, and to speak it in love, not malice.