“Who Jesus Is”
Isaiah 51:1-6
Matthew 6:13-20
Let the record show that, as far as I can determine, I have preached on this passage about the identity of Jesus a grand total of two times in my eighteen and a half years as your pastor—the first time about six months in and now, when I have less than six weeks left with you.
I didn’t plan this bookending, of course—the lectionary gives us what it will, when it will—and still I find it interesting that it has happened this way. And I’m curious about all the other times this gospel passage or one like it showed up—at least once every three years—and, for one reason or another, I chose not to preach on it.
Oh, I know what some of those reasons have been: It’s a tricky subject, we are of many different minds on this question, and, why take the risk of disturbing people who so desperately need comfort and reassurance? Because, while we always need comfort and assurance, the political environment of the past 10 years has both heightened that need and challenged us to love boldly and live courageously in spite of it.
But because God is still speaking, because God is always speaking directly to us and where we are each moment, for the first time in a lifetime of reading and reflecting on this passage and others like it, I have come to see that this back-and-forth about who Jesus is does in fact offer us comfort and assurance.
We can find comfort in knowing that Jesus wants us to engage with him, and even to wrestle with our doubts and questions about him. We can find assurance and reassurance in knowing that whatever our answer to the “who is Jesus?” question is on any given day, Jesus will delight in it and honor it and find love and faith to work with. And because Peter’s answer was, in many ways, “wrong,” we can find hope and take courage in knowing that the realm of God is built on the well-meaning and sometimes misguided, but nevertheless faithful and authentic, witness of people like us.
In other words, our answer to the question of Jesus’ identity is less important than our connection to Jesus. Our sense of who Jesus of Nazareth was and who Christ is is less important than whether we are committed to following the ways of Jesus.
We will come back to the comfort, assurance, hope and courage; but first let’s acknowledge our resistance to this question that so many churches and many Christians have, throughout history, made into something of a litmus test.
I know there are some us here who don’t know quite what to make of Jesus anymore. I know some of us believe that Jesus was nothing more than a prophet and teacher. I know some of us have been so wounded or offended by various caricatures of Jesus that we don’t want anything to do with him.
And, still, I agree with the controversial Jesus scholar Marcus Borg that an ongoing, unending discussion about Jesus is “the most important conversation there is” for people who call themselves Christians or followers of Jesus.
For if Jesus is God’s love revealed in human form, it behooves us to get to know him, to learn what was important to him and consider what made him tick. If we are wanting to encounter the Holy, to open ourselves more fully to the Great Mystery That Is Love, we need to consider the example of the one who taught and healed, blessed and fed, broke religious rules and crossed social barriers, lived and died and lived again in God’s name. And if we want to be transformed from within so that we can be address the injustice, poverty, greed, war and racism of the world with God’s love, we’d best pay attention to the values and practices of this “religious revolutionary” known as Jesus of Nazareth.
So, let’s start by trying to understand at least some of what made Jesus “tick.” You see, when Jesus asks his disciples what other people are saying about him, . . . when Jesus asks his disciples who they think he is, . . . I don’t think it’s a theological question. It’s not a trick question or some kind of test they have to pass. Jesus of Nazareth was never about theological belief; his life and ministry were about sharing and living out the extravagant and scandalous love of God and inviting us to do the same.
And . . . the Word of Love Made Flesh was also fully human. It is a deeply human thing to want to be known for who we truly are, and I think that’s what this question is really about. Jesus wants to be seen for who he is. Jesus wants to be understood for who he is. Jesus wants people to understand why he does what he does, and what it’s all about.
Don’t we all?
Who among us hasn’t wondered, at one time or another, what people think of us? Who among us doesn’t need and want to know that someone does think about us, at least occasionally? Who among us doesn’t want to feel that the people we love are at least trying to understand us, even if they don’t fully get us?
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jesus says to his disciples. “I know what other people are saying about me. But who do you say that I am?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jesus says to us. “I know that these people say I’m a king, those people say I’m just a man, those people want to use me for their own purposes of conformity and control, and those people over there have some sense of how dangerous I am and are out to kill me. But who am I to you? What do you make of me?
It’s a question worth thinking about and talking about and wrestling with.
The funny thing is that the same people who would make of this question a litmus test, point to Peter’s answer as the only “right” answer.
But while Peter’s question might be technically correct, its meaning is totally wrong. It is clear to Peter that Jesus is the Messiah, meaning God’s anointed one, but Peter has no idea what that means. Peter, like so many modern-day Christians, thinks “messiah,” “savior,” “deliverer” means someone who’s going to swoop in and rule like a bad king: exercising unilateral political power, overthrowing oppressors with military might, crushing enemies and making outcasts of anyone who’s different.
And all of that—except for the anointed part—is the opposite of who Jesus is! Jesus is a suffering servant, a selfless lover, a humble teacher, a fearless rabble-rouser and, as God With Us, the embodiment of compassion.
Jesus knows Peter has no idea what he’s talking about; he realizes the other disciples don’t understand either. And this is why, very shortly after this, he begins telling them—over and over again—this his ministry will not end well. That the authorities will understand the threat his “the last shall be first” talk poses to the status quo, and will do their best to crush such ideas, even if that means killing him.
And still, he praises Peter. Still, he tells Peter that it is on such open-hearted trust and willingness to follow that he will plant the church, the realm of God, the beloved community. Why? Not because Peter had the right answer, but because he engaged the question; he is connected to Jesus, and will continue to engage with him. Why does Jesus respond to Peter with such unabashed delight? Because he feels seen by Peter. Because, even if Peter doesn’t quite get it yet, he’s wants to; he’s trying. More than that, Jesus knows that Peter loves him.
And the same is true of us. It is in staying engaged with the person and the practices of Jesus, that we open our hearts to the power of the Spirit. It is in continuing to ask the questions, continuing to study, continuing to seek to grow in faith and understanding that we are transformed. As it did with Peter, the process of pursuing relationship with the Holy will make us less sure of simple answers and more grounded in love. Remaining open to Spirit will make us less dogmatic and more compassionate, less fearful and more generous, less resistant and more open in heart and mind.
Just as there is no simple, pat answer to the Jesus question, there is no clear, direct path for the journey of faith. Like Peter later on, we will have moments when we lash out at others or, in our fear, deny the demanding truth of what Jesus calls us to do and become.
But there is one thing we can say about Jesus with certainty and with joy: He will never leave us. He will never give up on us. He will always love us.
Today and always, may that truth be our rock. May that promise comfort us, assure us, and give us strength and courage for the journey ahead.
