Mark 8:27-38
Jesus went on with his disciples to the villages of Caesarea Philippi; and on the way he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” And they answered him, “John the Baptist; and others, Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets.” He asked them, “But who do you say that I am?” Peter answered him, “You are the Messiah.” And he sternly ordered them not to tell anyone about him.
Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”
He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.”
As I reflect on my life, I realize that my own understanding of who Jesus is has changed many times. When I was a child, he was the subject of many stories that I was told in Sunday school and in church. I believed that he was God because that’s what people, that’s what adults, told me to believe. But my understanding of Jesus was like that of any character in a book—abstract and having little to do with my day-to-day experiences.
As a teenager, I did what so many of us have done, and began questioning a lot of what I had been told to believe by adults in my life. I had a hard time swallowing the whole virgin birth story and I began entertaining the possibility that maybe some, or even all, of the miracles might have been exaggerated for good effect, or even made up all together. I wasn’t willing to throw out my belief in Jesus, I just wasn’t entirely sure who, or what, exactly he was.
These questions of mine found new and fertile ground in college, where I was introduced to the scholarly quest to decipher the historical Jesus. I was enthralled with this line of work, which believed that it was possible to discern the actual, historical person of Jesus from behind the veil of two millennia of tradition, religious teaching, and scripture. It offered glimpses of a man who was a wise teacher, a miracle worker, a healer, and a prophet who threatened the political order, ultimately leading to his death.
I was excited because for the first time since I had been presented with the stories in Sunday school and the pictures of the doe-eyed Jesus that adorn so many church walls, I felt that I was close to understanding Jesus. I was finally feeling like I knew who Jesus was.
It is, in fact, the same quest that everyone in the Gospel of Mark has been on up to this point. From the moment Jesus burst onto the scene, people have been asking, “who is this man?”
Who is this that feeds five thousand? Who is this that made the crippled man walk, the blind man see, and the sick woman whole? Who is this that commands even the unclean spirits? Who is this man who speaks peace to the blowing tempest and the angry sea? Who is this man who speaks with authority a new teaching? Who is this man who calls the dead back into life?
Who is this Jesus?
Indeed, it is the question of the hour. Gathering the disciples around him, Jesus asks them, “who do people say that I am?” Some said that he was Elijah. Others said that he was John the Baptist. Still others said that he was a prophet, like those in the old stories.
Their answers revealed a truth. Many were talking about Jesus. Many were astounded by the words that he spoke and the signs that he did. Few knew what to make of him. Few knew who or what he was.
This is not merely an academic question. It is not an identity crisis for Jesus. Neither is it a failure of his “branding.” It is an important question—the essential question—of our faith. In our answer, much hangs in the balance.
I believe in many things. I believe in following the laws of the land. I believe that my dog loves me. I believe that I will rise again tomorrow to enjoy another day on this earth. I believe that humans are capable of great evil, but that we want to be good.
I would not be willing to reorient my life for any of these beliefs, however. I would not stake my life on them. I would not give up my life for them. Well, it would be close for the one about my dog. But I know that given a choice between me and a big, stinky rabbit, my dog would choose the rabbit every time.
Much hangs in the balance. “If you are to be my disciple, then you must take up your cross and follow me,” Jesus promises, “for those who wish to keep their life will lose it and those who lose their life for my sake will gain it.”
Discipleship is not simply abstract belief. To be a disciple of Jesus, we are called to reorient ourselves, reorient our lives, reorient our entire being towards Jesus. To be a disciple can even mean giving up our lives in Christ’s name. To be a disciple is to re-center our lives, not on our own selves, or own desires, or our own ambitions. It is to center ourselves on God, who created all things and is the foundation of our being.
I wonder if you would be willing to do that for a great and wise teacher? Or perhaps a great healer? How about a prophet, like those in the old stories? I’m not sure that it would be enough for me. I am not sure it would have been enough for the first Christian communities who lived under the brutal and bloody persecution of Rome and still kept the faith. I am not sure that it would have been enough for the clergy and the lay people who formed the Dissenting Church and stood against Hitler’s transformation of Nazi Germany, and who were martyred for their efforts. I am not sure it would have been enough for the women and the men of the civil rights movement who marched in the face of violence and beatings by day and slept in the fear of fire bombings and burning crosses by night.
Indeed, much hangs in the balance.
Who do you say that I am? Jesus’ words rise up to us from the pages of scripture, a living question for the ages. Peter says that he is the messiah, but he doesn’t know what that means. How could he know what that means? Peter has not yet walked the way of the cross. He cannot yet know that the messiah comes not with the power to conquer and subdue, but the power to serve and to suffer.
Who do you say that I am? Jesus would answer his own question six days later. Gathering with him Peter, James, and John, Jesus went up to the mountaintop. There, with the heavens above him and the earth below him, Jesus was transformed before them so that he shone with a blinding light. Suddenly there was with him Moses and Elijah. As the disciples watched on in terror, the three of them spoke together. The voice of God broke through the heavens, proclaiming that Jesus was God’s own son. As suddenly as it all happened, it was over. Once again, the disciples were all alone with only Jesus. But now they knew.
Who do you say that I am? Standing on the mountaintop, Jesus proclaimed in his transfiguration that he was not just a wise teacher. He was not just a wonderful healer. He was not simply a prophet of God. He was all those things, yes, and he was so much more.
Standing beside Moses and Elijah, it is revealed that Jesus is not some novel miracle worker. He is a part of the sacred story of God’s people, just as Moses and Elijah are part of the story. Transfigured before the disciples, it is revealed that Jesus is the continuation and completion of the salvation of God’s people and the redemption of God’s creation. Bathed in blinding light, it is revealed that this is God’s own self standing before them.
Now they understood the answer to Jesus’ question. And it was an answer that was worthy of reorienting their lives. It was an answer for which they were willing to lose their lives. Now they knew that this was the one who had moved over the formless deep. This was the one who had been there as creation was first spoken. This was the one who had watched over and guided their ancestors. This was the one who had called their ancestors time and again into the covenant and into the promise.
And now the disciples too were being called into the promise. Now too they were being called to pick up their crosses and follow.
Who do you say that I am? It is a question that we all must answer for ourselves—it is not enough to simply accept what we are told to believe. To find the answer, we must each embark on a journey. It is a journey that will take us down different paths until at last we find ourselves, in our own time, on that mountaintop. It is a journey that ends only when we have had our own transfiguration experience and have finally found the answer for which it is worth reorienting, even giving up, our lives. Until that day, Jesus will keep asking, “Who do you say that I am?”
Preached by the Rev. Adam Yates