Mark 8:27-38
The
city was all about power. It was named for an emperor; in fact the city itself
was built for that emperor. The city’s every building, and every nuance of
architecture, was designed as a tribute to that leader. It was a city of
wealth. It was a city created to glorify a human being. It was a city of
ostentation. It was a city of power. It was a monument to all that worldly
success could bring.
Into
this city walked a teacher and his students. Others, many others, followed
along behind them. But it would have been clear to someone watching this scene
from afar that the twelve students grouped around the teacher were in a different
relationship with him than the others in the crowds.
They
walked into this magnificent city and the teacher asked his followers a
question.
“Who
are the people saying that I am?”
The
students did not hesitate with their answers.
“Some
say that you are John the Baptist. And other folks say that you are Elijah.
There are some that say you may even be one of the other prophets.”
The
teacher stopped walking, turned around and looked with great intent at his
students. There was a small but weighty silence, then he asked,
“But
what about you? Who do you say that I am?”
A
person watching from a distance would have noticed how taken aback the students
were by this question. That silent observer might have seen the students look
down at their feet, shift back and forth, look at each other, afraid perhaps to
be the first one to speak.
Except
for one – one man who stepped forward, excited, head high and hands held out.
Clearly this one thought he had the right answer.
“You
are the Messiah,” he said eagerly, maybe even with a slight smile creasing the
corners of his mouth.
If
this one student, this bold student, expected accolades for getting it right,
he must have been disappointed. The teacher did not pat him on the back, shake
his hand or turn him around to face the others; an illustrious example of one
who pays attention. No, the teacher put a finger to his lips and told them not
to tell anyone else. Then with a renewed urgency, he began to tell them what
being the Messiah really meant. He began to tell them it was more than just a
title, a designation or a royal name.
The
Messiah must suffer, he told them. The Messiah must endure pain and affliction
and then die. But after three days, he will rise again to new life.
If
the students were put off by their teacher’s earlier question, they were surely
shocked, bewildered, even appalled by what he was telling them now. The Messiah
suffer? The Messiah die? The Messiah rise again? None of this made sense. None
of this fit with what they had been taught. Nothing the teacher was telling
them connected with anything they knew before.
Maybe
the other students were frightened and confused, but the one, the bold one, the
eager one, he was angry. He stepped forward again, and pulled the teacher a few
steps away from the others.
“Stop
it!,” he told his teacher. “Stop it! Stop saying these terrible things. You’re
scaring them! You’re scaring me! This is not what happens to a Messiah!
Suffering? Death? No, this is not what happens to the Messiah, the one we’ve
been waiting for!”
If
the bold one believed the teacher might back down, he was wrong. Instead the
teacher turned his back on him, looked at the other students and said,
“Get
behind me, Satan! You are thinking about only human things, only human
concerns. But you are not thinking about God. You are not thinking about divine
things”
That
one student must have felt like he had been punched in the gut. How could he
have gotten it all so wrong? Only seconds before he gave the right answer. Now
the teacher had called him Satan. The teacher had compared him to the Most Evil
One. But there was no time to ask for more understanding or clarification.
There was no time to apologize or beg for forgiveness. The teacher called the
others, the crowds, who were watching this drama unfold. He called them to come
closer and told them that they had to make a choice. If they wanted to be his
followers, if they really, truly, most sincerely wanted to follow him, then
they must also pick up their cross and walk the path he walked. They must pick
up their cross and follow him. Not only must they pick up their cross, they
must decide if they would be willing to align themselves with him. Would they
be ashamed of him? Would they deny they knew him? Or would they be willing to
give up even their lives to follow?
“But
what about you?” he said. “Who do you say that I am?”
Who
do you say that I am?
As
one commentator put it, this is the moment in Mark’s gospel when we – those of
us who think we know the rest of the story – finally believe that the gap
between Jesus and the disciples’ understanding of Jesus will at last be
bridged. In some ways, this is the moment we have been waiting for. Jesus asks,
“Who do you say that I am?” and Peter, bless his heart, bold, impetuous Peter,
steps up the plate and hits a verbal home run.
“You
are the Messiah.”
Yes!
He gets it! Peter, at least, finally understands just who Jesus is. But as
quickly as we think the gap has closed, it reopens again; and it is even wider
this time. Peter may have gotten the title right, but not what the title means.
Jesus ordered the disciples to keep his identity a secret from others, but they
have to know, they must know exactly what the true definition of Messiah is.
To
be Messiah is to suffer. To be Messiah is to die a violent death. To be Messiah
is to rise again. To be Messiah … but Peter was having none of it. As earnestly
as he uttered his confession of Jesus’ true identity, he even more earnestly
rebuked Jesus for expounding on the truth Jesus was determined to share. Just
as Jesus rebuked unclean spirits, he rebuked Peter as well.
“Get
behind me, Satan!”
Jesus
had undergone great temptation in the wilderness, and now he told Peter that Peter’s
words were just another temptation. It was more of the same. To be the Messiah
was to reject the comforts of the world and to follow a different path, a
different way. It was not about enjoying suffering or hoping for suffering; it
was to accept that when you reject the world, the world makes you pay for it.
The people may not have been calling him Messiah, but the prophets they were
comparing him to suffered. John the Baptist spoke truth to power and paid for
it. Elijah spoke truth to power and suffered. Jesus knew that being the Messiah
meant suffering, because it meant rejecting success on worldly terms, and to
follow that Messiah, to really follow means the same for everyone who picks up
their cross.
His
question to the disciples was not just a test of their knowledge about his
identity. It was a question of their identity as well. But what about you? Who
do you say that I am also asks, who will you say that you are?
Karoline
Lewis said that is the hardest question of all, because answering who Jesus is
to us means that we also have to hold a bright light up to ourselves? If I
believe, heart, mind and soul, that Jesus is the Messiah; if I believe that
Jesus went to the hard places and ministered to the hard people; if I
wholeheartedly accept and believe and confess that Jesus as Messiah spoke truth
to power and gave hope to the hopeless, gave voice to the voiceless, then what
does that say about me? What does that say about how I am living, how I am
being, how I am following? Have I picked up my cross?
To
answer the question, “What about you? Who do you say that I am?” is to also
answer a question about myself. You are Jesus the Messiah, the Son of God, and
I want to follow you. My identity is intricately connected to yours. So who I
say you are also says worlds about who I am. “Who do you say that I am” is a
question that I must hear and that I must answer over and over again; because
discipleship is a call, and it is one that we answer not just once but also over
and over again. It is a choice that we make. Picking up our crosses and
following Jesus is a daily decision. I don’t want to admit how many times I’ve
looked at my cross, then turned and gone the other way. But here is the good
news, and maybe it doesn’t even seem like good news, but it is. My cross is
still there, still waiting for me to pick it up. I can always make the better
choice. And I can always make that choice, because of God’s grace. God’s grace
offers that me choice every day. And God’s grace covers me on those days when I
cannot bear the weight of the cross I have been given. And it is Gods’ grace that
gives me the courage and the strength to try again, to choose again, to answer
the question one more time. “But what about you? Who do you say that I am?”
You are the
Messiah. Thanks be to God. Amen.
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