The Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost - August 24

Who is Jesus, Really?
Matthew 16:13-20
Proper 16

The Gospel for this morning almost sounds like it could be the setting for a game show. “Who do YOU say that I am?!” Contestants from all over Galilee competing for the grand prize. Who do you say that I am??

Quite a few get it wrong… John the Baptist? Elijah? One of the prophets? Then the disciples get the question, but who do YOU say I am?? And Peter gets it right! One of the few stories in Scripture where Peter does not mess up. He gets the right answer. And he wins the grand prize. You shall be the rock, Jesus says, upon which the church is built. You shall be given the keys to the kingdom of heaven and the power to bind and loose.

The church calls this passage the Confession of Peter. “Confession” in the sense of proclamation, witness. Peter proclaims that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the living God.

But what if Jesus had asked us: Who do you say that I am? Our first reaction would probably be: Oh, that’s easy. We know the right answer. The one Peter gave. You are the Messiah. The Son of the loving God. Or if a more complete answer is needed, we have the words of the Creeds… You are, “the only Son of God, eternally begotten of the Father, God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, of one Being with the Father.”

But what if Jesus said: But who did you say I was yesterday? The words you spoke yesterday… The things you did yesterday… Who did they say that I am?

Many preachers and commentators have pointed out that the challenge of this passage for us today is to ask ourselves: What does the way we live our lives say about who Jesus is? The words we say outside of these church walls say something about who we think Jesus is. Our checkbooks say something about what he means in our lives. The choices we make, the things we do, speak to who we think Jesus is in our worlds. And probably all of these things indicate that Jesus means something to us, that he is worth some measure of attention or study in our lives. But do we confess him as Messiah? Son of the living God?

The Lutheran Pastor and preacher David Lose (who often has a very helpful perspective) points out (HERE) that as we follow this train of thought there is a step beyond feeling guilty. There is a way beyond the general feeling of guilt that we are not doing all we should be doing to proclaim Jesus. It’s probably pretty easy for all of us to get to that guilty place, knowing we are not confessing Jesus as boldly as we should.

But Lose suggests a next step. First start with going beyond the titles we have for Jesus. We have lots. The ones we use in church. Messiah, Lord, Savior, Son of God. And, as Christians, we use those titles a lot, especially here in church. But do we stop to think about what we really mean by those titles? We can’t live what we confess if we don’t rally know what we mean when we confess it. What does it really mean to you or me or to our world when we say that Jesus is the Son of the living God? And we needn’t feel to bad. As we’ll hear next week, Peter didn’t really get it, either.

If you were talking to a child or someone who had absolutely no introduction to Christianity, what words would you use to describe what it really means to you that Jesus is the Son of the living God. This goes a bit beyond describing your personal relationship with Jesus, although that’s a great exercise, too. What does it mean to you and to the world you live in that Jesus is the Son of the living God?

One of the good things about this exercise is that there is not just one right answer. It’s not a game show where only the right answer wins the prize

Here’s part of David Lose’s answer: “I think Jesus is God’s way of showing us how much God loves us and all people. God is so big that I think we have a hard time connecting with God. And so God came to be like one of us, to live like one of us, in order to reveal just how God feels about us. In this sense, Jesus revealed God’s heart”

Here’s my first effort: Jesus shows us that life matters. Our lives matter. The things we do, the choices we make matter. Our lives matter so much that God, in all of God’s power and wonder and divinity, participated and shared our human lives. God lived a human life. That’s how much human lives matter. It’s the total opposite of society’s response to every situation with, “Oh, whatever.” Jesus made God’s presence and purpose real in human life. We matter that much.

So here’s your assignment. Think about how you would describe what it means that Jesus is the Son of the living God. Just a couple of sentences. Using your own words. Try to avoid the stock titles and phrases we use in church.

And I agree with Lose. If we have a better understanding of what it is we’re confessing when we say Jesus is the Son of the living God, I think we’ll do a better job of living that confession throughout out lives. For example, when I think about Jesus as the proof that our lives and choices matter, it helps me take seriously many of the choices I make each day. It helps me remember, too, that every human being I encounter matters.

Don’t worry: if you’ve spent anytime in church your description will be theologically OK. You’ve been shaped by the words and prayers you’ve heard here, but do try to find your own words. Your description won’t be complete. It won’t speak to everything that Jesus is or does. It can’t. Keep it short and focused. It’s OK if it’s not complete.

In the epistle for today, St. Paul talks about how it is the combined gifts of the people in the Body of Christ that make us the Body of Christ

If we combine all of our own confessions of what it means that Jesus is the Son of the living God. And if we combine all of our efforts to live into what we confess, we’ll be doing OK as the Body of Christ.

The Tenth Sunday after Pentecost - August 17

Transformed? by Grace
Proper 15
Matthew 15:21-28

In the collect appointed for today, one of prayers is that Jesus may be for us an example of godly life. And then, in an odd twist of timing, we have the Gospel reading appointed for this morning. Not only do Jesus’ words to the Canaanite woman seem ungodly, they are downright ugly. Essentially, Jesus says to her: “I did not come for such as you… you, who are less-than-human.”

Pretty much every commentary I looked at this week said we have two choices in interpreting Jesus’ words in this incident. In the first choice, it is a test. Jesus is testing the Canaanite woman. One writer called this the Jesus as drill sergeant scenario. Jesus breaks her down in order to build her up. If this is a test, ultimately she passes. And in this interpretation she serves as an example to us of persistence in faith. But it seems so unlike Jesus to cause so much hurt before he bestows a blessing.

In the second interpretation of Jesus’ words, we are seeing a glimpse of the human Jesus still growing in his understanding of his purpose and ministry and as a human being unavoidably shaped by the conditions and social prejudices of his day. In this interpretation, the Canaanite woman teaches Jesus something. She teaches him that even people perceived as less than human can have remarkable faith. Surely that is a good lesson for anyone to learn, but do we really think of Jesus as someone who needed to be taught that?

Personally, I have a preference for interpretation number 2, but there are significant problems with both. Which one of these interpretations you favor probably depends upon the pre-existing Christology you bring to your interpretation. And, whether or not you know it, you do have a preexisting Christology. You either think of Jesus as primarily divine and perfect who sees every situation with total omniscience and acts accordingly… testing the Canaanite woman for her own good. Or you see Jesus as primarily a wholly holy human being, who under God’s guidance grows into his understanding and power of who he is and what he is called to do. Orthodox theology, of course, says Jesus is both, but that’s hard to wrap your head around and most of us lean one way or the other. As I said, I lean towards the holy human Jesus. But, in the end, I don’t think there’s any way we can know for sure what was in Jesus’ mind or what his motives were when he spoke to the Canaanite woman.

One of the pieces I read offered to me, at least, another way to enter into this story. Another way to explore what this piece of sacred Scripture might be saying to us. Just put the whole issue of Jesus’ intent aside, and ask instead: What was it like for the disciples? What did the disciples experience in this event?

For quite a while before this they’ve been in the region of Galilee, “where all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average.” That allusion either clicks with you or it doesn’t, but what it’s meant to illustrate is that Galilee is their hometown. For the disciples in Galilee, everything is familiar. They know who lives on every corner; they are related to someone in every town. It’s familiar territory among their own people. And they’ve watched and participated as Jesus has done wonderful things in Galilee, healing and feeding their neighbors, preaching the kingdom to the people of Israel.

So the disciples must have been puzzled at best when Jesus chose to travel some 30 miles as the crow flies (many more as the sandal trudges) to the district of Tyre and Sidon. Tyre and Sidon lie along the Mediterranean coast in present day Lebanon. In Jesus’ day the people there were foreigners, Gentiles.

One commentator writes: "The story is set in a geographical area where good Jewish people would not usually go. The Pharisees avoided the area, because they worried that just being there would make them unclean. The disciples must have been uncomfortable about being there, and sure enough, in this troubling place, trouble found them. A Canaanite person, a woman, no less, who should have known that women don’t go up and talk to strange Jewish men, came running to them, shouting at the top of her voice" (Dawn M. Mayes; http://www.goodpreacher.com/shareit/readreviews.php?cat=50; retrieved 8/16/14).

It seems the disciples must have felt uncomfortable, possibly threatened and frightened. Almost certainly saying to themselves… why on earth are we here, wasting time among these dogs, these useless people? And then Jesus says out loud what they had been thinking.

The same writer suggests the disciples would have been shamed and shocked to hear their prejudice given voice by another, especially Jesus. But I think that’s a modern response and that’s why this story troubles us so deeply. We hear our prejudices being given voice by another, by Jesus! And Jesus’ words hold a mirror up to our faces reminding us of how we still see others who are different as subhuman, worth only being dismissed or cast aside. We are forced to face the contemporary reality of our society and our human nature that is easier for a good person to shoot another person, when that other person is different. It is easi-er for a good person to shoot another person when that other person is different. Whether it is in the Middle East or Missouri.

Going back to the Gospel story, at least in my imagination, the disciples’ more likely response to Jesus words would have been relief and maybe a sense of self-affirmation. As though they were getting their bearings or feeling a bit more secure in the midst of the uncertainty and discomfort they were feeling. Jesus feels the same way I do! Whew! So now let’s move on…

But Jesus doesn’t move on. He stops…

Jesus stops and continues his engagement with the Canaanite woman.

And then…. And then God’s grace breaks the whole world open. God’s grace flows from the woman to Jesus. God’s grace flows from Jesus to the woman. It enfolds and overcomes the disciples. God’s grace floods the hearts and minds of everyone there. I think for a moment God’s grace, God’s love and purpose, was visible and tangible to the disciples without any doubt. The disciples experienced God’s love and purpose in the healing of the Canaanite woman’s daughter.

They were in a land where they felt very out of place. With a person whom they dismissed as subhuman. Together representing two vastly different peoples and perspectives. And all were filled with and radiating God’s grace.

Then that moment passed. That world changing, potentially life-changing, moment was over. And we are left to wonder, to speculate, whether the disciples’ lives were changed by their experience. Matthew’s focus is not on the disciples. He moves on to another event in Jesus’ ministry. Were the disciples transformed by what they experienced?

Did the experience fade in their memories? Especially as they returned with Jesus returned to the familiar territory of Galilee?

Did a few of them perhaps remember and privately nurture that brief moment when Jesus appeared to affirm their prejudice? Clinging to and replaying just that sound bite over and over again?

Or were they transformed? Did they grow in their understanding of God and God’s purpose and of their role in God’s mission? Were they transformed by their experience of God’s grace?

The Ninth Sunday after Pentecost - August 10

Trying to Be With Jesus
Matthew 14:22-33

The stories we are hearing these last few weeks in the Gospel readings come from the heart of Jesus’ ministry in Galilee. Last week we heard how Jesus fed a multitude along the shores of the Sea of Galilee.

This week’s reading follows immediately after. Jesus has dismissed the crowds. He then instructs his disciples to get into the boat and proceed across the lake while he goes up on the mountain alone to pray. As night falls a strong storm arises and wind and waves batter the boat. In the early hours of the morning as the storm rages, Jesus comes towards the disciples in the boat, walking across the stormy sea. The disciples are initially terrified, not knowing who he is. But he says, “It is I.” In the Greek, he actually just says “I am” using the same phrase that God used to identify himself to Moses when he spoke from the burning bush. Peter eagerly jumps up and says, “If it is you, Lord, command me to come to you.” Jesus says “come.” Peter steps out of the boat and initially walks across the stormy waves. But he becomes frightened by the storm. His faith and his focus waver and he begins to sink. Jesus immediately reaches out and saves him and brings him safely back into the boat. In awe the disciples worship Jesus as God’s Son.

I find Peter to be an endearing character throughout the stories we have about him in Scripture. He is so eager and well intentioned, but so often misguided. And here we have another “Peter messes up” story. It seems like most of the Peter stories are “Peter messes up” stories. He’s like that favorite adolescent nephew—a really good kid, but somehow just can't stay out of trouble.

I found myself wondering, at least in my imagination, how this story might have ended differently. What other trajectories might the plot have followed?

The story itself seems to invite us to consider the possibility that Peter might have made it all the way to Jesus. If he hadn’t become frightened; if his faith hadn’t faltered; he could have successfully walked across the waves to Jesus. But, in Peter’s life, that’s an impossible ending. It couldn’t have ended that way because Peter is never without fear or doubt or uncertainty. Peter’s faith is never perfect. It’s fruitless to imagine that it might have been. Peter’s faith is never perfectly clear and secure, unassaulted by doubt or fear.

As Matthew tells the story it seems like Peter initiates this event to test Jesus’ power and identity. “If you are who you say you are, Jesus, work your miracle in me, too.” But the “facts” of the story say that it is Peter’s faith that determines whether he makes it or not. Jesus’ power and identity are manifest in other ways. Jesus has just fed 5000 people with mere morsels of food. Jesus has come walking across the stormy water to the disciples. Jesus saves Peter from drowning. Jesus’ power and identity have been revealed. So if Peter had made it, it would not really have told us anything new about Jesus. It would have told us something we know to be pretty highly unlikely—that Peter had somehow acquired a full and perfect faith.

Another way the story might have played out: What if Peter stayed in the boat with the other disciples. Then, with them, he would have seen a very impressive miracle. He would have observed Jesus walking on water, once again seen a revelation of Jesus’ divinity and power. But he would have been just an observer, learning nothing new about himself or his personal relationship with Jesus.

One other possible scenario for this story: Peter might have missed the boat. Literally. That sounds like something that could happen to the Peter we know. Maybe he got sidetracked trying to figure out exactly how Jesus had fed five thousand with five loaves and two fish. Maybe he was helping clean up. Maybe it had just been a very busy day and he had one more thing to do before he got back to Jesus. So he missed Jesus’ instruction to get in the boat. He missed witnessing the miracle. He missed a personal interaction with Jesus in his life. Because he was busy or distracted, he could have missed the boat.

But the story didn’t go any of those ways. Peter was in the boat and when he saw Jesus, he jumped out into the waves. Because Peter was always trying to be with Jesus! Always, Peter was eagerly trying to be with Jesus, as close to his Lord as possible. Have you thought about that? Even the events we call Peter’s denial—the stage is set for that because Peter just couldn’t stay away. Yes, still assaulted by fear and doubt, but he was there, following as close as possible, trying to be near Jesus.

Then there’s the wonderful post-resurrection story that John tells in his Gospel. After Jesus crucifixion and resurrection some of the disciples, including Peter, are fishing in a boat on the Sea of Galilee. They have caught nothing until a figure on the shore tells them to cast their nets on the other side and they haul in a full catch. When Peter realizes it is Jesus, he jumps overboard to try to get to Jesus as quickly as possible. The boat isn’t fast enough. Peter urgently, eagerly, wants to be with Jesus.

And in this morning’s story, Peter is trying to get to Jesus. So I think the message of this story is: if you’re trying to get to Jesus, Jesus will save you. No matter what dangers threaten you, no matter how secure or not your faith is… if you are trying to get to Jesus, Jesus will save you. If you are working at coming to Jesus, Jesus will save you.

So the point of the story is not if Peter had just had more faith or a more perfect faith, things would have been better. Peter’s faith will never be perfect But he’s eagerly trying to get to Jesus and Jesus saves him.

It’s always better to try to get to Jesus. Even if it involves considerable risk. Peter jumped out of a boat into a stormy sea and was held, caught, and saved by Jesus. Our faith, like Peter’s, will never be perfect. But even in the midst of whatever fear or doubt or uncertainty threatens us, if we are trying to get to Jesus, Jesus will save us. Jesus will take hold of us and hold us close in his arms.