Loading...I’d like to begin this morning reminding us that in last Sunday’s sermon I talked about change. I recalled the quote that there’s nothing as constant in the world as change. That change is a part of living. That the act of changing our minds can be healthy and important for the survival of humanity.
I bring that up today because I think remembering that change is a part of life is important when we strive to have a deeper understanding of what Jesus is asking in today’s Gospel.
Particularly when what we heard seems like it should be easy to explain, but, like most Biblical stories, there is some kind of twist that might not be so easy to unravel without a little more history.
It seems simple. Jesus asks the disciples what they are hearing about him on the street. Wondering who people say he is. But the question isn’t just that. He’s asking them, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?”
The thing is, Jesus wants to know the word on the street in this particular place: Caesarea Philippi. That matters. Jesus is not in Capernaum or preaching at the Sea of Galilee to people who are following him, mesmerized by what he was teaching or by his miraculous acts of healing. Jesus and his entourage have entered a Roman settlement, ‘located near a temple built by Herod the Great, dedicated to Rome and the Emperor Augustus, the first Emperor of the Roman Empire — and an emperor,’ and this is important to this story: ‘who added to his title the striking phrase, Divi Filius: “Son of the Divine.”’[1]
To put it plainly, Jesus is asking a dangerous question when he calls himself the Son of Man in a place where the civic leader has taken the title, “Son of the Divine.” If the locals are describing Jesus as the Son of Man, they could be putting their lives in danger for sedition, or rebellion against the government.
Rather than using the language of “Son of Man” or “Son of God,” the locals instead liken Jesus to familiar religious prophets like John the Baptist, Elijah, and Jeremiah. People whose stories are told, hoping for the coming of Messiah.
They may not have boldly identified Jesus as the Messiah—they may not have figured it out yet. Nonetheless, Jesus’s presence in Caesarea Philippi would have been controversial and possibly construed as subversive. A risk Jesus would have needed to know when they arrived.
I suspect, or hope, they were safe in the home of a follower when they had this conversation. Out of earshot of Roman officials, guards, or anyone loyal to the Roman occupation. A place where they could be lounging around the fire after a meal, when the conversation quiets as the last remnants of natural light remain and the oil lamps are lit. A time when they could talk about the depth of their experiences.
“So,” Jesus says, “what are you hearing on the streets about our arrival?”
I imagine the others begin their reports to ensure that the locals have not betrayed their safety; relaying greetings and warnings and invitations.
Then, Jesus asks how he is being identified—are those who are loyal to him saying he is the Son of Man, the true Son of God, in a place where many there can only acknowledge that Emperor Augustus, holds those titles. Are they at risk of being imprisoned for treason?
Perhaps Jesus is ensuring and securing their safety in an unsafe village.
Perhaps it isn’t this scenario at all, but instead a curiosity trying to learn how different people perceive Jesus—how they might define Jesus by what they have seen or heard about him.
But if it is the first scenario:
As the fire begins to turn to embers, and the conversation quiets further, when trusted comrades might become more vulnerable with one another, Jesus turns to his followers and asks, “Who do you say that I am?”
They’ve been together, the thirteen of them, and the others who travel with them, for nearly three years. They’ve watched Jesus heal, heard him teach, let him go into the wilderness to pray. They know he is showing them alternate ways to live their lives. He’s changed the trajectory of how they see the world. He has eaten in questionable company, talked with women who have been identified, whether accurate or not, with bad reputations, spoken with religious leaders in the dark. He’s shown them that people who have been shunned and ridiculed have purpose and deserve dignity.
How could any one of them distill all these experiences into a short, pithy, description of who Jesus is? Considering that the people in this small group each had their own experiences with Jesus, or saw any of the public revelations through their own lens, would it be possible for there to be a consensus? How long did the room go quiet as they considered the words to describe who Jesus is?
Finally, Peter speaks up, and his is the only recorded response. He claims Jesus is “the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”
A big statement with a variety of definitions.
The people have been searching, waiting for the Messiah—the one who would set the world right side up, who would upend the colonizers and oppressors who had stripped the Israelites of their rights and dignity. They were looking for someone to be sent by God to defeat these outside governments by whatever means were necessary.
They were looking for someone strong, with an army, who could overcome these Romans and who would bring the Israelites back into their own sort of power.
Even Peter was expecting a big hullabaloo, even after naming Jesus the Messiah, the son of God. His words were big, their meaning big, their hope even bigger. And while Peter was expressing his trust in Jesus, pleasing Jesus with his revelation, it would not take long for Peter to doubt. And believe. And doubt again.
This Peter, Jesus said, would be the rock that built the Church.
This is the first time the concept of “church” is recorded in Scripture. Jesus puts Peter in this important place as a foundation to be built upon. Jesus is the cornerstone of this foundation, of course, but in this moment, Jesus identifies Peter as the rock that builds a movement.
We might find that a little ironic. Peter, who vacillated between hope and fear, belief and unbelief, who would follow Jesus wherever Jesus would go, but would ultimately deny knowing him when Jesus was heading to be hung on a cross to die.
That vacillation might be exactly why Jesus identified Peter as the rock that built the church. Jesus understood human nature to be a little wishy-washy. He likely knew that some days would be easier and others harder to embrace the concept that Jesus is God’s Son, that Jesus is one part of the Holy Trinity, that worshipping God would cause strength and confidence—and also weakness and insecurity.
Peter, who asked questions no one else dared, who stumbled when he was nervous, who stood next to Jesus at many pivotal moments, who learned and grew in the shadow of his teacher, it was Peter who would be the perfect model for what the modern church would become.
That brings me to a question. It’s the question Jesus asked the disciples in a place where their answer could cause any one of them to be imprisoned, tortured or killed. It’s also the question we all need to consider for ourselves:
Who do you say Jesus is?
It would be easy to repeat what Peter says, that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God. Easy to talk about Jesus as a miracle in Mary’s womb, as a newborn whose life was threatened, a boy who stayed behind in the temple to learn and to teach, a man who is baptized in the Jordan River, called misfits to follow him so he could teach them how to live in ways that expressed love, dignity, kindness, justice, and mercy, a man who ate with the unclean, who talked with women, who healed and taught and prayed, and who was betrayed, beaten and murdered as an example to others who might upset religious and civic leaders.
Those are, perhaps, easy ways to tell others who Jesus is.
But I think the real question here is who do you say Jesus is to you? How would you tell someone who does not know Jesus, or who has a hard time believing in God why Jesus is a part of your life? How would you talk about your relationship with the Trinity? Why, ultimately, are Jesus, God, and the Holy Spirit important to you?
I’m certain we all have our own stories, we have our favorite moments of Jesus’s teaching that have impacted the ways we live. Many of us might have had a spiritual epiphany, or a mountaintop experience that motivated us into some relationship with the Holy. We might feel God’s presence as we perform our duties in the ministries we have felt called to be a part of. It could be a visceral response that moved the depth of our being into action. The experience of loss, of grief, of fear being relieved by something bigger than ourselves might be another way of understanding who Jesus is in our individual lives. It might be about the communities of believers or even unbelievers that have tuned our hearts to the teachings of Jesus.
I can confidently say that I have experienced all these things, and so much more. I’m sure you can pinpoint at least one incident where it could only have been God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit that moved you closer in your relationship with God.
My challenge to you this week is to share with someone, anyone, a moment where you were undoubtedly in the presence of something Holy. Tell them what it meant to you and why. Share with them how you were changed, or how your life was turned a new direction.
Give yourself an opportunity to answer Jesus’s question: “Who do you say that I am?”
Let us pray.
Jesus, you not only challenged the disciples with your question, you have challenged each one of us, tasking us to meditate and discern who you are to each of us. Confident that we have an answer, it is now up to us to say it out loud, at least sometime soon, to someone who just might need to hear it. Or maybe, it is us who need to hear our own conviction, our own desire, for you in our lives. Give us courage to express what you mean to us, and through our answers, remind us of the hope that comes when we believe in you. We pray in your name. Amen.
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