Who do You Say that I Am?

Let’s imagine that Jesus were standing right in our midst. He poses the question to us, “Who do people say that I am?” We might wonder why Jesus was asking that question. Was he still unsure of his identity? Hadn’t the voice at his baptism in the Jordan convinced him? Perhaps he needs our reassurance.

In any case, we have to answer. You [pointing to someone] might answer, “Well, you seem to know a lot about Scripture, and you sure can preach, so some people say that you must be a super mega-church leader, even better than Rick Warren and Billy Graham.” But you [pointing to someone else] might say, “People notice that you’re always talking about peace and justice, so some people say that you’re Mahatma Gandhi, someone who can enable real social change through non-violent means.” And then you [someone else] might pipe up, “Some people notice how you much care about the poor, and how you’re always talking about taking care of ‘the least of these,’ so they think you’re another Mother Teresa.” But then you [someone else] might want to warn Jesus. So you say, “There are those who think you’ll get in trouble with the authorities, maybe even get yourself killed like Martin Luther King.” Then you [another person] might want to sum up the answers of the rest of us and say, “You’re a wonderful person, Jesus, a person we’d all like to emulate, a person who’s as good or better than other great people we know about. But aren’t you just a human being, like the rest of us, and nothing more?” If you think about Jesus at all, would most of you give answers similar to these?

Then Jesus turns to us, to me, and asks – we knew he would – “But who do you say that I am?” How to answer? We know what Simon answered when Jesus asked him that question. We might wonder whether Simon was answering only for himself or for the whole group. Although anyone who followed Jesus had to eventually answer that question, I think Simon was already the de facto leader of the group and could have been speaking for all. We know that Simon said, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God.” But what did Simon mean when he said that? The word “messiah” comes from the Hebrew mashiah, meaning “anointed one.” It was translated into Greek as christos, from which we get “Christ.” It means the promised liberator of Israel. Simon was saying to Jesus, “You are the one in whom God’s promises to us are fulfilled, you are the king and deliverer we’ve been hoping for, you are the one who will ultimately rule the world. You are more than just a learned rabbi, more than just a champion of the poor. You have a relationship with God that no other person has ever had.”

So when Jesus turns to me, what do I say? Do I use the same words as Simon Peter? Or are there other ways I can say what Peter said, words that twenty-first century people might understand, just as Jesus’ first followers understood Peter’s words? Here’s how I would answer Jesus’ question. I believe in God’s promises to humankind, and I believe that you are the one in whom these promises are fulfilled, including God’s promise to restore all creation. Therefore you are the one to whom I give my full allegiance, above all dictates of politics, culture, family, even, perhaps, the church itself. You are the one whom I want to love and follow with my whole heart. You are the one St. Teresa of Avila meant when she prayed, “We are all vassals of the King. May it please his Majesty that, like brave soldiers, we may look only to where the banner of our King is flying and follow his will.”

I would also say to Jesus that I believe that you are the Word made flesh. You are not only human, you are also God as well. What we know of the nature of the mysterious, unknowable source of all being we know because you reveal it to us. You are still alive, still working to make us more like you, still leading, guiding, and consoling us, and still helping us to partner with you in the transformation of the world.

How did Jesus respond to Peter’s answer? He said, “Flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven.” Peter had an “epiphany,” an extraordinary revelation from God of the truth of Jesus’ identity. The gift of being able to see Jesus as both fully human and as the Word made flesh is a gift of God’s grace. Paul reminded the new Corinthian Christians that “no one can say ‘Jesus is Lord’ except by the Holy Spirit.” And so it is for us too. Some of you may have trouble accepting Jesus’ full humanity, and the possibility that we can be like him. Others of you may struggle with seeing him as more than a good man who died 2,000 years ago. When we come to the place of understanding Jesus as both human and divine, it is indeed a gift of grace. When we are baptized and commit ourselves to him, it is a gift of grace. When we reaffirm our baptisms in confirmation, it is a gift of grace.

And here’s the important part: God’s gift of grace is a transformative gift, it is a gift given to us out of God’s great love for us. At first glance, we might wonder whether Peter’s epiphany and confession made any difference in his life. He was still impulsive, impetuous, and clueless. He said all the wrong things when Jesus was transfigured. He fell asleep at Gethsemane, denied he even knew Jesus, and ran away when Jesus was executed. Even so, his confession was the turning point of his life, and God’s transformative grace began to work within him. After the Resurrection, Jesus commanded Peter to feed his sheep. After Pentecost Peter became a gifted preacher, as our lesson from Acts suggests. As a church founder he was a respected elder, who was able to offer sound advice on leadership, as we heard in the second lesson. Tradition even says that, like Jesus, Peter was crucified. In fact, there’s a legend that, in the time of Nero’s persecution of Christians, Peter tried to flee Rome. On the road, Jesus came up behind him. “Where are you going, Lord?” the legend says Peter asked (in Latin, ‘Quo vadis, Domine?’). “To Rome, to be crucified again,” Jesus replied, as he walked past Peter and other faithful Christians already crucified along the Appian Way into Rome. Ashamed, Peter turned around and went into the city to his own death.

And so too for us. The grace that enables us to confess Jesus as lord also works its transformative power in us. We may not feel an immediate transformation. We don’t raise our heads from the font with a halo on, any more than Peter did after his first recognition of Jesus’ identity. Indeed, the transformation at work in us is often called “the slow work of God.” When we continue to let God into our lives, when we “dispose” ourselves to transformation, God will continue to work in us.

And then, like Peter we too will proclaim the good news to others. More, we too will be the good news for others. When God begins God’s transformation of us, God does not lead us onto Easy Street. Rather, in the transformation that makes us more like Jesus, God leads to the streets of exploitation of others, so that we find ways to enable God’s other children to climb out of poverty. God bids us prod our elected representatives into seeking justice for all. God sends us into prisons and bids us ask why so many of our citizens are incarcerated. God bids us welcome strangers and feed Jesus’ sheep. God takes our hands so that we too may partner with God in the bringing in of God’s reign.

And like Peter, we too will find ourselves at the Cross. When we committed ourselves to Jesus in our baptisms, we did not make what Mary Poppins called “piecrust promises,” easily made and easily broken. We committed ourselves to following Jesus heart and soul. Faithful discipleship cannot avoid the walk to Jerusalem and the confrontation with principalities and powers. As members of Jesus’ body, as adopted and beloved children of God, we cannot be bystanders in the fulfillment of God’s promises. Jesus comes up behind us too. In our questions and doubts, we might say to him, “Quo vadis, Domine, where are you going, Lord?” His answer will always be the same, “To the Cross.” And then he will say to us, “Where are you going?” My answer, God willing, will be, “I will go wherever you lead me.”