Susan Warrener Smith

September 17, 2006 Mark 8:27-38

Today we are faced with the three most important questions that any Christian must answer. Who do you say that Jesus is? If you say he is the Messiah, what do you mean, what do you hope by that? And finally, if you call yourself a disciple of Jesus, what do you mean by that?

At this point in Mark’s narrative Jesus and his disciples are about twenty miles north of the Sea of Galilee in Caesarea Philippi, a town resting below the luxuriant slopes of Mt. Hermon whose snow-capped peak feeds the headdwaters of the Jordan River. Today it is a national park, overlooking the fertile north end of the river valley. When Jesus and the disciples arrived there, however, it was quite a different place from what it is today, a very “unJewish” place in many ways, for it was here in this lovely valley that the Roman army brought its eastern troops for rest and recreation. The presence of these troops and the culture they brought with them created an ambiance that could not have been avoided.

For Jesus and his disciples amazing months of traveling precede their arrival at Caesarea Philippi. During these months Jesus walks on the water of the Sea of Galilee and challenges Peter’s faith. Jesus takes on the Pharisees and the scribes and challenges the integrity of their traditions. Jesus heals the lame, the maimed, the mute, and the blind, and he feeds thousands with the meager scraps that can be gathered among the crowd. Hoards of people follow Jesus and praise God for the great works they have seen Jesus do, but the Pharisees and Sadducees persist in following him as well and testing him. And everyone is speculating about who this Jesus really is. Clearly he is not your average person. “Who do people say that I am?” Jesus asks. Perhaps he is John the Baptist come back to life. (The disciples buried John only a short while ago.) Or maybe one of the great prophets of ancient Israel - Elijah or Jeremiah. But the heart of the matter emerges when Jesus calls for a personal response from his disciples. He turns to them and says, “This is all well and good, but what I really want to know is who YOU say that I am?”

This reminds me of a time when John Buchanan, speaking to the General Assembly, reflected on a sermon he gave when he was right out of seminary. He chose for his text that day Peter’s confession as it is found in the gospel of Matthew. Because he had written his senior thesis on that text, he felt like he was ready to really wow the congregation with his knowledge. So he took his thesis,“bristling with footnotes,” as he put it, and turned it into a sermon, sharing at length his great erudition on the passage. Later when he was at home with his parents and relaxing over a cup of coffee, his father told him that everything he had said in that sermon was good but suggested that the next time he would preach on that text, he might want to save some time to say something about his own answer to that question.

That holds true for us all, I think. This question is at the heart of our faith. Who DO we say that Jesus is? Who IS Jesus for us? Who is Jesus for you and for me? Who do you and I say that he is? This is the existential question that every follower of Jesus Christ must ask. What we think about Jesus, what kind of a person we believe him to be, what meaning he brings to our lives, what kind of commitment he asks of us, what kind of commitment we are willing to give to him, all this defines who we are as Christians and what the church means by the Lordship of Jesus Christ. Who we say Jesus is is that on which we build the church and that on which we shape and build our very lives.

There below the peak of Mt. Hermon at the headwaters of the Jordan Jesus asks, “Who do YOU say that I am?” Peter is quick to answer, “You are the Messiah.” Here in a place crawling with Roman troops, this is a bold response. I can only imagine that it was said behind closed doors and may also help us to understand why Jesus warns the disciples to not broadcast what Peter has said. For a Roman soldier to hear that the Messiah has appeared is risky, for to Roman ears the very word “Messiah” is synonymous with violence and insurrection. The Jewish expectation was that the Messiah would come in glory, a kind of God-king who would purge Jerusalem of all godlessness, routing out the heathens and reuniting the scattered tribes of Israel into one nation. The political implications were clear and would not be welcomed by Roman ears!

Jesus’ concern may be for the safety of the disciples, but his reluctance to have them broadcast that he is the Messiah is also probably because he knows the disciples simply do not yet understand what that means. It is one thing to SAY that Jesus is the Messiah. But to know what that means is something else altogether. Peter may be quick to recognize Jesus as the Messiah, but apparently what he means by that and what Jesus means by that are two very different things. And what Peter hears Jesus say is not to his liking. It just doesn’t make sense that the Messiah, the one who is to come in glory and reunite Israel, ushering in God’s kingdom . . . it just doesn’t make sense that this understanding should be turned on its head and the Messiah instead should undergo great suffering, be rejected by all in authority among his own people, and be killed. In Peter’s mind it just doesn’t compute. In Jesus’ words Peter sets his mind NOT on divine things but human things. This is what Paul was talking about to the Corinthian church. “Jews” Paul writes, “demand signs and Greeks desire wisdom, but we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles . . . God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is strong than human strength.”

There is a strange undercurrent to Jesus’ response to Peter’s rebuke, and I began wondering if Jesus also was as uncomfortable with this new definition of Messiah as Peter? “Get behind me, Satan,” Jesus retorts. Does he feel the cold arm of temptation reaching for his own heart and mind just as it did in the desert? Is he feeling tempted maybe to seek the more obviously triumphant role of the traditional Messiah than that of the suffering servant, the role of one who will be rejected and killed, the role of one who will go to his death without a violent response, the role of one who can forgive and embrace a cruel world even from a cross? Is Jesus tempted to reject this messianic calling?

On September 11, I watched part of program on how 9/11 has effected faith and doubt in our country. A Christian, a Jew, and a Muslim spoke of the dark side of all religion, the underbelly, if you will, the shadow side of faith where a religious rationale is mined that drives us to perpetrate evil in the name of God. No religion is immune to this possibility, this temptation. Even Jesus seems to feel the ugly, seductive power of temptation. “Get behind me, Satan,” he quickly replies, rebuking Peter whose misperceptions might tempt Jesus to abandon the rigorous road before him. Jesus is tempted (and we are, too) to think that Jesus can avoid that hard road, that we can avoid that hard road, that it can be avoided and traded in for something more exciting, something more dazzling, something that matches more closely our human ideas about what it means to be triumphant. Aren’t we all tempted to take the more destructive road and show those Romans who is boss, after all!

It is distressing enough to learn that our concept of Messiah is not what we thought it would be, but now the disciples learn that discipleship is probably not what they thought it would be either. Peter really wants to patronize Jesus. He rebukes Jesus because he wants to guard and protect him. Peter not only is all messed up about what “Messiah” means. He is all messed up in his understanding of what discipleship means. To be a disciple is not to protect Jesus or to guide him. To be a disciple is to FOLLOW Jesus. The symbol for the evangelist Mark is the lion, and it is a fitting symbol here when Mark comes on strong and tough about what it means to be a disciple of Jesus Christ. There is no mincing of words. In Mark’s eyes to be a disciple is not so much about believing as Paul or John would have it; it is not so much about obedience to the law as Matthew would have it. For Mark it is about the costly road of taking up the cross.

At this point in the narrative Jesus is not only talking to the disciples, but he has called in the crowds now as well. The path of discipleship, which is a path of self-denial, is not just for the Twelve disciples. It is for all us who claim Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior and would follow him. “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” I have a little bear that a friend of my grandmother’s made for me when I was a little girl. It sits in a child’s cradle in my bedroom to this very day. The bear’s eyes are crossed, and his name is Gladly the Cross-Eyed Bear, a name I gave him many years ago. Apparently I had heard a hymn that sang of the disciples’ call to bear up under the burdens of life. But Jesus is NOT talking about gladly “bearing our cross.” He is not talking about holding up under life’s misfortunes, about grinning and bearing it until we get pie in the sky when we die. Jesus is talking about “taking up our cross,” about willingly assuming a life “that challenges and clashes with much that we take for granted and with the unthinking and selfish choices we make every day.” (Herbert O’Driscoll, The Word Today, Year B, volume 3, p. 105)

I’d like to share a story I read by William Willimon, the former Dean of the Chapel at Duke University. He writes about a student at Duke Divinity School who came into his office, looking tired and like she was carrying a heavy burden on her shoulders. She said, ‘I wanted you to know, Dr. Willimon, that I’ve been paying attention in class . . . I heard what you said about the cross, about costly discipleship, so a few friends and I went down to the School of the Americas’ protest in Georgia. You know, our military has been training torturers and assassins there for years. We don’t think Jesus likes that so we joined some other Christians to protest. A few of us walked out of the crowd, knelt down at the soldiers’ feet, and prayed. All of a sudden a policeman grabbed me from behind and forced me into a bus. It looks like I’ll be spending three to six months in prison for trespassing on government property.’” Willimon responded with alarm. “You’re kidding! They can’t do that to you! Are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help?” But the student said she was fine. “In fact,” she said, “ I’m kind of looking forward to prison. Many great disciples spent time there.” Willimon writes, “ As she got up to leave, she looked different, as if she clung to some truth that only a few discover. I noticed life and lightness in her steps, as if she were being carried to a high place, a privileged place, a place that I would never know.’” (Pulpit Resource, Vol. 34, No. 3, Year B, July, August, September 2006, p. 53)

Who do you say that Jesus is? If you say he is the Messiah, what do you mean, what do you hope by that? And finally, if you call yourself a disciple of this Jesus, what do you mean by that?