All You Want
Mark 8:27-38

September 13, 2009


They were walking with no particular place to go and ended up passing through Caesarea Philippi when the conversation became interesting. Location, location. In a world that just wasn’t working, Caesarea Philippi’s name was a symbol of all that was wrong. In earlier times the town was known as Naphtali, but now it has been renamed with the Roman Greek labels of the imperial occupier of the Holy Land, sort of like St. Petersburg being entitled Leningrad throughout the Soviet era. Jesus and company passing through Caesarea Philippi must have looked like they were wearing green in downtown Winnipeg.

So it happens that the most important conversations poignantly occur in the most inappropriate locations. Maybe it wasn’t the most inappropriate time, as Molly and I had just celebrated our first Christmas Eve together going to a service at St. John’s United Church of Christ right under the Twin Peaks in San Francisco. After the service we went to the minister’s house for some Christmas treats, but then we knew we had to be heading home. That meant catching the 2:13 a.m. bus from the East Bay Terminal to Berkeley. We were given a ride down to the Terminal and boarded the nearly full capacity bus with a few minutes still to spare.

It was just about time when the last person boarded, a typical Berserkeley resident of the early 1970’s - long scraggly hair, unkempt torn clothes, slightly crazed look in the eyes. He put his money in the box, then turned to the first person seated behind the driver and in a strong voice declared, “Christ Is Born!” No one was exempt; he went down the entire aisle of the bus forcefully giving the same proclamation on both sides of the aisle. There was some very mild snickering, but somehow everyone seemed to get the point - this was Christmas Day, and maybe this fellow had the right idea.

There was an indescribable tension building up as he made his way back to the very last seat in the bus. “Christ is born!” he said one last time, and the occupant of the seat was waiting for him. “Who the hell is Christ?” Suddenly nobody on the bus breathed, the air seemed to have been sucked out, but our erstwhile evangelist exploded air back into the bus, “Who the hell are you?!!” The entire bus burst into a roar of laughter, 2:13 had arrived and the driver announced, “I guess it’s time to go!” Off we went across the Bay Bridge with one of the great theological discussions raging on the back seat of the bus - where they always should be. Getting off the bus they seemed to have bonded.

Hey, this is what you are in seminary for, analyzing such moments. Didn’t take long before I heard loud and clear the point of the back seat - until you know who Christ is, you don’t know who you are. That sounded good in 1971, but today it is even more critical that we know who Christ is if we ever want to know who and what we are. It sounded like a modern question when Jesus asked his disciples in Caesarea Philippi, “Who do people say that I am?” The disciples had been listening to the broadcasts and had been doing proper academic research: Elijah, John the Baptist, maybe Isaiah or Jeremiah or Hosea. Enlightening for us to know what the expectations of Jewish people were in the first century; historians love this stuff.

There was a specific time in history when Jesus asked this question, yet the peculiar power of the Gospel is that there is no time limit. The question is being demanded of us still today as the disciples of Jesus - and like then, some good, some not as good, disciples - “Who do you say that I am, now?” Let’s move beyond academic research and popular hearsay, Who is Christ for you, for this church?

Peter always seemed to have his mouth open ready to answer any question, and as he will do again, he says exactly the right thing, although it is quickly obvious he has little idea why. In time, Peter’s actions and understanding will grow into his mouth and words. Today, like a lot of Christians who parrot back the approved confession, he says to Jesus, “You are the Christ, the Messiah.” Jesus never assents to this directly. He just knows that if this Messiah business ends up on the newscasts and in the local reports and gossip circles, he’s in trouble because everyone has their pet idea about who the Messiah is supposed to be and they want to keep their idea as a pet. Don’t want you telling anyone about any of this. In Mark this is the refrain that keeps appearing - keep quiet - and of course no one did.

Now he has their attention and pulls them off to the side to explain just what a real Messiah is all about, not just a pet notion. He told them in plain language all about the necessity of the Son of Man to suffer many things, be rejected by the religious powers-that-be, be killed and after three days rise again. We still commit anyone who talks like that, so Peter, beside himself, took Jesus barely out of earshot and rebuked him, “Cut this nonsense out.”

We haven’t overcome that inclination yet, for we still want to cut this nonsense out, because as Christians we don’t think we’re meant to suffer or be rejected or certainly be killed. We want a Jesus who is gentle and kind and teaches how to be good and successful, but all this God stuff is too much for us to swallow. Jesus saw that the disciples were wavering badly at this moment of doubt and grabbed Peter back and told him, “This is the way it really works, you’re just falling into the all-too-human trap of thinking we can wish evil away, not by confronting it. Get behind me, Satan.” Brutal stuff.

Jesus widens the circle, bringing the multitude into the conversation, and telling them all things they don’t want to hear. Deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow me. If you want to save your life you have to lose it. I don’t believe too many people in that crowd bought what Jesus was telling them. What they heard told them more about Jesus than it instructed them on how they should live their lives. Jesus was a holy man and we want none of that crazy stuff. We still think it’s nonsense and we still resist.

When you read through the rest of the Gospel you see that the disciples always resisted getting behind Jesus, until after the Third Day. It’s a wonder that Jesus’ description of who the Messiah, the Christ, needs to be ever found its way into the scriptures. We’ve always been working against its grain, and yet somebody after the Third Day, knew that this was the way to life, that this was the way to truth, this is the way to resurrection, and kept writing it into the Book. It seems every generation has a bunch of smart people in the church who think they have it figured out how to cut out this nonsense, but in the end they are left with nothing but common sense. Who do you say that I am? I’m not sure we’re ever able to describe Christ fully until we get behind him, following him, losing our lives. We tend to make Jesus nice and easy, or to make Jesus imitate our desires and aspirations, which only makes sense. But Jesus takes us through the deadness of this world and on the Third Day resurrects you and me, which is nonsense, thank God.

Preached by Robert Kitchen
Knox-Metropolitan United Church
Regina, Saskatchewan