This is the second of three sermons I preached in St Louis between internship and my first call at Holy Trinity Lutheran Church, a church discerning its future. Its Holy Closure came in spring 2025.
Grace to you and peace from God, who is with us every step of this challenging walk of discipleship, and from Jesus, who is the Christ, our Messiah. Amen.
In north central Arizona, where my husband and I lived for three decades, Granite Mountain has the best view in western Yavapai County. The Granite Mountain trail comes up the backside of the mountain, and you climb up the switchbacks until you near the top, then you hike along a rim trail another half mile to the summit, where the panorama opens up in front of you.
Today’s gospel reading takes place at the midpoint of Mark’s gospel. It’s as if we’ve been climbing up the switchbacks, and soon, we’ll be able to see everything that’s ahead. Today, we’re hiking around that bend.
It’s been a strenuous journey to this point: Jesus calling the disciples, teaching them, meeting people and healing them, and then five long weeks of the bread of life discourse. If we read the actual next passage in Mark’s gospel, it’s the Transfiguration, the revelation of Jesus on the top of the mountain, then the slow descent toward Jerusalem and the Cross.
So, after more than two years of spending time with the disciples, today, Jesus wonders whether it’s sinking in.
“Who do people say that I am?"
Are the people who have come out to be healed, to be taught getting it? Do they know who I am? It’s almost as if Jesus is asking the disciples to check in. What have you been hearing?
And the disciples sound a lot like managers who are hesitant to tell the CEO bad news. “Well, a few people are connecting you with some big names. I heard Elijah. I heard John the Baptist, and I think some other prophet names were mentioned.”
And Jesus cuts through the smoke pretty quickly:
“Who do YOU think I am?”
The silence must have been palpable. “Who ARE you? We KNOW who you are. Jesus. The guy from Nazareth. We met your mother and kid brothers. Of course we know who you are.” But suddenly, Peter UNDERSTANDS.
“You are the Messiah.”
It’s as if Peter finally connected all the dots. The teaching. The healing. The lack of concern with Jewish law. Multiplying the food, calming the sea. His knowledge of God’s will.
“You are the Messiah.”
But there was no gold star for Peter. No “Wow, you got it!” Instead, Jesus tells them not to tell anyone. He started talking about what comes next – suffering, a trial before the religious and governmental authorities, and eventually his death.
Just for a second, let’s try something. If I say a word -- like “father,” all of you will have a picture in your mind. Perhaps it’s an amazing person who was at all your school concerts and sporting events. Maybe it is someone who taught you to ride a bike or drive a car, or who walked you down the aisle.
But other people have different pictures. Maybe their father was abusive, distant, or even absent. Maybe he died before you were born. So if we started talking about “fathers,” we wouldn’t be on the same page.
And I think the same thing happened between Peter and Jesus. Peter got it right – Jesus indeed was the Messiah. But what Peter thought the Messiah should be, and what Jesus was describing were two different pictures of Messiah. Peter thought the Messiah would come in glory and power and release the captives from their Roman rulers. It would be a new day for the people who were barely getting by. He imagined a somewhat elevated Moses.
Jesus, however, knew what the Messiah’s future was. He knew what was ahead. He was already a threat to the powers-that-be. Healing people, providing them with food, telling them they didn’t need to follow all the laws and rules, and eventually asserting that he was one with God: that threatened the status quo. That was not only blasphemy, it threatened the cozy deal-brokering between the Jewish high priests and Pilate, the governor.
Without that foresight, Peter wasn’t on the same page. He just heard Jesus agree he was the Messiah. How did suffering and dying fit with that? Peter begins to push back on his teacher, and Jesus rebukes him with “Get behind me, Satan.” It crushes my heart to hear Peter be so right one moment, and so wrong the next, because those words hurt.
“Get behind me” sounds like he wanted Peter out of his sight. Perhaps a better translation of the Greek would be “get in line,” or “follow along.” Peter just declared Jesus as the Messiah – now Jesus was asking him to act like it. To understand him differently.
Which reminds me – If Jesus came today, I don’t think he’d be asking who the people say he is. We have the advantage of 2,000 years of Christianity on this side of the cross. Much of the world knows who Jesus Christ is.
I think Jesus would ask us two questions:
First one is the same one he asked the disciples: “Who do YOU say I am?”
And the second, “What does that mean for you?” Or, put a little differently, “What are you going to do about it?”
It’s one thing to profess Jesus as Lord and Savior.
It’s quite a different thing to live as though that makes a difference.
Both James and Jesus today tell us how hard it is to live out our faith. Jesus said, “If any wish to come after me, 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.”
I don’t think Jesus expected every one of his disciples to die on a cross, but many of them died while sharing the good news. Being an evangelist in the First Century was not for the faint of heart.
James wrote that it’s hard to follow Christ and speak with gentleness and self-control. “No one can tame the tongue—a restless evil, full of deadly poison” James said. “With it we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse people, people made in the likeness of God. From the same mouth comes a blessing and a curse. My brothers and sisters, this ought not to be so.”
I’m not sure it’s a lot easier to follow – really follow Jesus – in THIS age. This divided and intolerant age. For one thing, speaking the truth about the gospel in this day is challenging. As a pastoral candidate, I don’t have to look far to find a mentor pastor who has been cornered by a member after Sunday worship about preaching forgiveness, non-violence, or inclusiveness. And when the surprised pastor says he or she wasn’t making it up – that the words came directly from the Gospel, the member says something like, “Maybe, but that doesn’t work today, in 2024. That’s weak.”
There’s a church that is advertising for a pastor, that wants a pastor to bring their Bible, but “We don’t need nor want political and/or fashionable cultural views.” Let’s be clear – it would be nearly impossible to be a preacher of the gospel in that church. The Bible is political. Not partisan, but definitely political. Jesus was political. And cultural? If we don’t speak a word of caution and a word of encouragement to each other, the people who are trying to follow Jesus will be eaten alive by this culture. Instead of being peace-makers, they will imitate others and spew words of violence. Instead of working for unity, they will do and say things that divide.
Jesus knew how difficult it would be hard to be counter-cultural. I think that’s the cross that Jesus asked us to take up. The life that Jesus wants us to leave behind for the sake of the gospel is a life that looks like everyone else’s. We’re going to falter sometimes. We’re going to struggle. And we’re going to turn to one another for hope and forgiveness when we do.
The season is beginning to turn, both outside and for the church. And as Jesus continues to lead his disciples around the rim, over the rocky terrain that leads to the summit, on the way to Jerusalem, he knew he was asking a lot of his followers that day. It’s one thing to know who Jesus is, as Peter proclaimed: “You are the Messiah.” It’s quite another to decide what we’re going to do about that.
Amen
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