This morning’s Gospel
does not make much sense separated from last Sunday’s Gospel, so I am going to
begin by reminding you of how this story begins.
Jesus and the disciples
have been wandering in Galilee and they come to its northernmost point, the
slopes of Mt. Hermon. Specifically, they are on the road to Caesarea Philippi.
The site of Caesarea
Phillipi was an ancient site for the worship of Baal and later the Greek God
Pan. Augustus Caesar gave the city to King Herod, who built there a temple to
Augustus. Herod, in turn, gave it to his son Phillip. At that time the city was
called Panion. Phillip rebuilt the city and re-named it for his two favorite
people: Caesar and himself. It became
the seat of Phillip’s governance of that region, left to him on the death of
his father.
Jesus and the disciples
are walking into this politically-loaded Gentile city, a place where the rule
of Rome and its puppet kings was on display for all to see and experience.
With this setting in
mind, Jesus asks his disciples what people are saying about him. Who do people
say that I am? They give him a variety of answers, but then you can almost
sense him stop walking, turning to them, and asking. “Who do you say that I am?
Again, you can almost
see the disciples shuffling their feet, looking furtively at one another. Who’s
going to say something? It is Simon, who has the nickname “Peter,” from the
Greek word for “rock.” Rocky steps forward and says, “You are the Messiah, the
Son of the Living God.”
Jesus bestows a
blessing on Peter and tells everyone that on this “rock” (pun intended) his
followers will organize themselves, and he gives Peter, if you will, “the keys
of the kingdom.”
Strangely enough, Jesus
also instructs them not to tell people about this Messiah thing. Why is that?
For the children of
Israel, “Messiah” meant “anointed one” (in Greek, the same word is “Christ”).
It was a prophetic and a royal title. Only prophets and kings were anointed in
ancient Israel. In addition, “Son of God” was Caesar Augustus’ favorite name
for himself. They were headed into a city where there was a temple to that son of god.
The question, “Who do
you say that I am?” was a loaded one. The answer put Jesus on a collision
course with the power of the state. His disciples, and Christians for all time,
were going to have to be clear about just who was the primary authority in
their life.
Jesus then starts the
process of re-working the Messiah image for the disciples. As Messiah, Jesus
was not going to be the conquering hero, restoring Israel to its former,
independent, glory. Quite the opposite, he was going to be the Messiah who
suffered and died.
Peter is beside
himself. “No,” he says, “God forbid it. That is not going to happen to you.”
And in an instant Peter goes from rock star to an instrument of Satan. Jesus’
declaration should remind us of the temptation story, where Satan tempts Jesus
with, among other things, political power, the kind that was many people’s
expectation of what the Messiah would do. Jesus had said an emphatic no then,
and he says and emphatic no now.
Furthermore, he says
that this way of changing the world—that appears positively insane to his
followers—will be how his followers live and face the world around them. “For
those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life
for my sake will find it.”
What we usually do with
this story is individualize it. It is up to each one of us, as followers of
Jesus, to be able to answer Jesus’ question, “Who do say that I am?”
That’s all well and
good. But what if the question is also a communal one. What if it is a question
that the church must answer, and not just about Jesus, but about ourselves? Who
do we say that we are?
St. Paul taught us to
answer the question, “We are the body of Christ.” Jesus taught about the
“kingdom of God,” suggesting that was our true citizenship.
Who do we say that we
are?
There are many ways to
go in tackling that question, but let me suggest just one by reading the
Collect for Labor Day,
Almighty God, you have so linked our
lives one with another that all we do affects, for good or ill, all other
lives; So guide us in the work we do, that we do it not for self alone, but for
the common good; and, as we seek a proper return for our own labor, make us
mindful of the rightful aspirations of other workers, and arouse our concern
for those who are out of work; through Jesus Christ our Lord… (BCP. P. 261)
Who do we say that we
are?
We are people always
committed to the common good, cognizant that our lives are linked to all other
lives. This is as old as the tales of
Genesis, which taught us that we are
our brothers’ and sisters’ keepers. We cannot subscribe to any movement that
puts some people “first” above anybody. To do so denies our very identity.
Just an example. I
encourage you to wrestle not only with the question of who Jesus is for you,
but what the church is for you, and how we are the church in the world.
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