Lent 3: Wandering Heart: Praise the mount...

Scripture        

 

Now when Jesus came into the district of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” And they said, “Some say John the Baptist but others Elijah and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” Simon Peter answered, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” And Jesus answered him, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you but my Father in heaven. And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.” Then he sternly ordered the disciples not to tell anyone that he was the Messiah.
~Matthew 16:13-20

 

Sermon                       

As a pastor in the Presbyterian Church USA, I am a member of the Presbytery, just as you are members of a local church. For me, one of the most exciting things that can happen at a Presbytery meeting is when we examine a candidate for ministry. This is when the person who has been studying, doing field work, comes before the presbytery seeking ordination. On this occasion they read a statement of faith they have written, and the members of the presbytery—both pastors and ruling elders—examine them on that statement.

 

When I was examined for ordination in September of 2003, the Presbytery assembly was held right here at Union Presbyterian Church. I was examined for ordination in this sanctuary. With fear and trembling I read my statement of faith, and then responded to questions from the body. It was frightening and thrilling.

 

Today we witness Peter giving his statement of faith, after Jesus asks the disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” Jesus and the disciples have just crossed over into the region governed by Philip, one of the Herods. It seems Jesus is still keeping his distance from King Herod, due to the recent death of John the Baptist. The question of how the public sees Jesus is a reasonable one: how the public saw John—as the new Elijah—contributed to Herod’s fear and jealously of him.

 

The disciples throw out several names. Maybe Jesus is the new John the Baptist! Or Elijah, for that matter. Both these men went toe to toe with corrupt rulers, called them out for their sins against God and neighbor. Elijah spent much of his ministry on the run from Jezebel and Ahab. John died at the hand of Herod. Others had heard Jesus was considered a new Jeremiah, another prophet who had bad news for corrupt rulers especially those who allowed the people to worship false idols. His difficult life, which included periods imprisonment, led to him being called “the weeping prophet” by scripture scholars.

 

The image on the screen, and on your bulletin covers, is “Who do you say that I am?” by the Rev. Lauren Wright Pittman. If you look closely at Jesus’ garment, you’ll see that it is divided into several different segments, each of which contains different designs. Those shown in earth tones contain symbols of all the misunderstandings of who Jesus is. On the left, we have the symbols of honey, locusts, and baptismal waters, which would be… John the Baptist. Next to these, we have ravens, an empty chair, fires, and rains, signifying the prophet Elijah. To the right we have scales of justice, and plants being uprooted and planted, the prophet Jeremiah.

 

The disciples said, “Maybe some other prophet.”

 

The disciples have told Jesus exactly what the people think of him, in a kind of shorthand. They believe he is a breath of fresh air in the face of the brazenly corrupt Herod, and the dreadful Roman Empire. They believe he has come to call out the mighty for the ways they oppress the little people. They believe he has come to give his vision of what God’s law means (nicely outlined in the sermon on the Mount, chapters 5-7) a law of love for neighbor and forgiveness of enemies, a law of humility instead of braggadocio, a law in which love of God is lived out through our love of neighbor, a law in which we trust that God is love.  

 

Then Jesus asks, “But you—who do you say that I am?”

 

This is Peter’s moment: “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”

 

Peter’s answer is concise—just nine words, in our English translation. (By contrast, my statement of faith to the Presbytery was 960 words. I know. You are not surprised.) But these nine words carry volumes. To say that Jesus is the Messiah is to say that he is the anointed one whom God had promised to God’s covenant people—the Judean, the one from King David’s line, who would set everything right again; the one who would rule with wisdom and justice and mercy.

 

To say that Jesus is the Son of the living God is to say something not predicted by the prophets: that God would come in person, the Word made flesh, to show the depth and steadfastness of God’s love; “to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor” (Luke 4:18).

 

And if you look at Rev. Pittman’s image again, you will see that, in the full-color swath of the painting, Peter’s clothing holds symbols of his identity: rocks and the keys to the kingdom. Jesus’s clothing bears symbols of Peter’s understanding of who he is: oil—signifying the anointed one—and the sun, for the Son of God.

 

A-plus, Peter. Gold star. And Jesus’s warm response to Peter’s affirmation goes beyond high marks. He tells Simon Peter, son of Jonah, that he is blessed. And he goes beyond that to tell him that he is being given a new name.

 

New names happen often enough to catch our notice in scripture. In the Hebrew Scriptures, Jacob becomes Israel, going from a name that means “to follow” to a name that means “one who struggles with God.” The writer of most of our New Testament epistles is originally Saul—from Solomon, a name that means “peace”—and then becomes Paul, a name that means “humble.” And now Simon, a name that means “hearing” or “listening” becomes Peter, a name that means, rock, as in, solid foundation. As someone in our Bible Study reminded us, the foundation is not Peter himself: the foundation is his statement of faith. He has captured the essence of who Jesus is. That is the rock upon which the church is constructed.

 

The title of today’s sermon is “Praise the Mount,” another phrase from the hymn, “Come Thou Fount,” because this moment for Peter is what you might call a mountaintop moment of faith. I believe we can all recall memories of times when our faith shined brightly for us…this will be the topic of our conversation in the church’s Facebook group this week. And the phrase “Praise the mount” isn’t about a literal mountaintop; it’s the mount of “God’s unfailing love.” I believe this is at the heart of Peter’s proclamation: everything he sees in Jesus, the pieces that look like a prophet, the pieces that look like the Messiah, and the pieces that look like the Son of God all have this in common: the unfailing, unwavering love God has for us, as exemplified in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.

 

This is the fundamental nature of the incarnation. “For God so loved the world,” we read in John’s gospel. The love of God is at the heart of everything we know about Jesus. It is the very thing that makes Peter want to share this revelation, this understanding, this glorious discovery.

 

So, why is it so hard for us to share our love of, gratitude for, and trust in Jesus? One of the commentaries I read this week takes on this question. Scholar Richard Ward wrote,

 

There are, to be sure, those Christians who are not afraid and in fact are willing and able to put Jesus at the center of any conversation. Others of us are more reluctant. Why? Is it because we just don’t know what to say in our politically polarized environment?  

 

Maybe we don’t know what to say because “Christianity’s got a branding problem.” The author Jessica Grose claims that many are distancing themselves from “Christianity” because it is too associated with [a particular brand of] politics. One such person that Grose interviewed exclaimed “I no longer attend services, nor want to. I am simply too angry at what so-called Christians are doing to our children and society” How do we confess our faith in such an environment? [i]

 

How do we, indeed? It is one thing to tell Jesus, right to his face, who you believe he is, or for that matter, to tell a sanctuary full of like-minded people what you believe when you’re hoping they will honor your sense of vocation to do just that. Do we even want to figure out a way to become more comfortable speaking about our faith, outside a faith community context? And if we do, how do we do it?

 

I believe we start where we are. Maybe the thing we are ready to mention is that we like our church (or love it—you do you!). And there may be myriad reasons for that, and things we appreciate about it. And maybe the talk about Jesus comes later.

 

When the moment comes to declare his faith Peter is ready. We have no idea is level of education, but we know for sure he didn’t go to seminary. Yet he is ready to say what he believes, because the lamp of love Jesus has lit in him is burning, and burning bright.

 

I leave you today with the wordy paragraph on Jesus from my own faith statement, in hopes it helps that the inner lamp that Jesus lights in all of us to burn bright.

 

Brother Jesus, you… are God’s own beloved child, but you are more than that—almost more than I can comprehend. You came among us, God’s own will and Wisdom, a Palestinian Jew, son of the Covenant, to preach good news to the poor, to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor. Your care for the least and the lost, and your claim of God’s authority, made you a marked man, and so you were condemned, convicted by civil and religious authorities, and you suffered an unspeakable torturous death. But God did not allow that to be the last word, and gave you victory over the power of sin and the grave and raised you to life anew. Your life has never ended. Your life is our life. You share it with us.

 

Thanks be to God. Amen.


[i] Richard Ward, “Commentary on Matthew 16:13-20,” Working Preacher, August 27, 2023. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-21/commentary-on-matthew-1613-20-6.