Sermon: Who do you say Jesus is? (A thought experiment)

Pentecost 11A/Lectionary 21

August 24, 2014

Matthew 16:13-20

            I learned something this week. Actually, I learned a lot of somethings – we did have Vacation Bible School, after all! – but the something I’m thinking of particularly was a geography lesson. I learned a bit about Caesarea Philippi. As it turns out, those first words in our Gospel lesson today – “Now, when Jesus came into the district of Caesarea Philippi…” – are incredibly important for how we are to understand the exchange that follows.

             You see, this was a very politically charged place. Once a place of great significance to the

Caesarea Philippi

Israelites, it was now occupied by the Romans. Twenty years before Jesus’ birth, Roman King Herod the Great had built up the city, including a white marble temple to the false god, Pan. When the region passed to King Philip in 4 BC, he renamed the place “Caesarea” to flatter his patron, Caesar Augustus, and Philippi to acknowledge himself (so, Philip’s Caesarville). Philip built his administrative capitol there. Residents of Caesarea Philippi worshipped Augustus, and relished in worldly things. It was an “I’ll-scratch-your-back-and-you-scratch-mine” sort of place, the sort of place crawling with high-paid lobbyists in expensive suits, ready to work the system for influence and power.

And it is here, in this politically loaded city, that Jesus asks his disciples the question: “Who do you say that I am?” Such a simple question, but the location of his asking makes all the difference. Just think, if I asked you right now, out here in the country in this beautiful pavilion, where only the animals and your fellow Christians can hear you, “Who is Jesus to you?” it wouldn’t be such a hard question to answer – at least I hope not! You might offer up words like, “Savior,” “Friend,” “Son of God,” or even, “Peace,” “Love,” or “Hope.” You could articulate these, your experiences of Jesus in your life, and not fear being judged because these are things we, for the most part, have in common, right?

But, what if we were standing on Capitol Hill, at a political rally, perhaps one in which your particular religious convictions might incriminate you in some way, and I asked you the same question? Would you be as willing to declare your faith in Jesus Christ in that setting?

As I have reflected on this question myself this week, my mind has not gone so much to some political rally on Capitol Hill that I made up for a sermon. But it has gone plenty of other places – to Missouri, to the US border, to Gaza, to Ukraine, to Syria… and I’ve wondered, “What is the answer to that question in those places?” You see, who Jesus is doesn’t exist in a vacuum, independent of whatever is happening around him. We see different aspects of Jesus in different circumstances – even as he is always the same Savior, the same Son of God.

So to that end, I was hoping that this morning, you might be willing to participate with me in something of a thought experiment, looking at a couple hot issues here in our own country. As we journey through the country together, think with me about what you know about Jesus, and given that, where you might see him and who he might be in each of these places.

            First, we travel to Ferguson, Missouri. An 18-year-old, unarmed black man has just been shot by a white police officer. The police officer explains that he had good reason to shoot the man, who had broken the law, used force, and as it turned out, recently robbed a convenience store. Witnesses, however, insist that the young man had been surrendering, hands up, facing the officer, when six shots were fired at him. In response to the event, riots have erupted in the streets of Ferguson. The National

Guard has taken up residence in the community. Schools have been closed because of the danger on the streets. Many fear that this incident is proof that racism is alive and well in America.

            “Who do you say that I am?” Who, in this scene, is Jesus? Who do you say Jesus is here? Is he here? Is he present in this mess? Who is he?  

Is he the weeping mother, who had dreams for a son about to head off to college? Is he the police force that has rallied around their accused colleague? Is he in the

Michael Brown's mom

community of blacks and whites alike, many of whom live in poverty, who are asking for justice from the very people they had hoped would protect them? Is he in the protesters, standing up for what they believe? Is he in the counter protest, using what they deem to be necessary violence to keep the peace? Is he in the group of teachers who, while their school is closed, have banded together to clean up the broken glass, water bottles, and tear gas canisters littering the streets?[1] “Who do you say that I am?”

            Travel now 800 miles south, to the US border. Some 70,000 unaccompanied children are expected to cross this border this year. Many are searching for refuge from poverty; many others have

run for their lives, escaping drug lords and violence, and the very real threat of torture and death. Some Americans have responded with concern for the kids, searching for ways we can take in these children and help them find a better, safer life. Some have responded with concern for America, saying that we already don’t have enough resources to take care of our own citizens, let alone this influx of people who come with no English language skill and severe trauma that will require years of counseling and therapy to overcome. Some have responded by vocally protesting their arrival. Schools are scrambling to figure out how to accommodate this influx. Some have traveled to the border to be a loving, comforting presence for these terrified and exhausted children. Federal funds are being poured into better border security and faster deportation methods.

            “Who do you say that I am?” Who, in this scene, is Jesus? Who do you say Jesus is here? Is he

here? Is he present in this mess? Who is he?  

Is he in the scared eyes of an 11-year-old Honduran boy who has been betrayed by his own people and unwelcomed by those from whom he seeks refuge? Is he in the line of people holding signs urging the children to return to their homes? Is he in the border control agent, doing his best to manage a complex issue? Is he in Congress, making decisions about how federals dollars will be best

spent to resolve this issue? Is he among the people who have scrambled to open up more space for these thousands of terrified children to stay? “Who do you say that I am?”

            I don’t know particularly who Jesus is in any of these places or circumstances, though I have hunch he is all kinds of places I might not expect God to be. God is always showing up where I wouldn’t want to set foot, because that is what “Emmanuel” means: God with us, in the riots, in the disappointments, in the violence, in the helpers, in the justice-seeking, in the faithful, in the homeless, in the scared, in the desperate, in the loving, in the comforters… God is with us in whatever extraordinary or mundane events the world is facing at any given time. God is Emmanuel.

So even if I can’t answer all those questions, one thing I do know in all these places is that Peter’s confession is true: “[Jesus is] the Messiah, the Son of the Living God.” Wherever transformation could occur, there is Jesus. Wherever love changes hearts, there is Jesus. Wherever things live and grow and have their being, there is Jesus. Wherever life can be brought out of death, there is Jesus. He is the Messiah, the Son of the Living God, and on this rock-solid conviction, our church, our community of faith, is built. The mission of that community, then, is to live as though the love and life of Christ are indeed our foundation, and to see and to be that presence in the world – out here in the country, in the proverbial city of Caesarea Philippi, in Ferguson, at the border, and in all places that need to hear the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Let us pray… Living God, our Rock and our salvation: we cannot always make sense of the pain and suffering we see in the world, but one thing we can trust is that you are present in it and working through it. Help us, in all things, to see where you are, and to have the courage to proclaim who we know you to be: the Living God. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

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[1] http://www.npr.org/blogs/thetwo-way/2014/08/19/341651494/ferguson-teachers-use-day-off-as-opportunity-for-a-civics-lesson?utm_source=facebook.com&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=npr&utm_term=nprnews&utm_content=20140819