Romans 12:1-8
Matthew 16:13-20
Sermon; Offerings to the Living God
What’s the buzz? Tell me what’s happening?
What’s the buzz? Tell
me what’s happening?
What’s the buzz? Tell me what’s happening?
What’s the buzz? Tell me what’s happening?
Any
other Jesus Christ Superstar mega-fans here this morning? I have a confession; I’m very sorry but my
dorky musical side is showing again. I
first saw Jesus Christ Superstar with my high school church choir. Then I saw the movie, bought the soundtrack,
and memorized the entire thing. I even
attended a sing-along performance a few years ago on Easter evening. Best
Easter Ever! Yes, my dorky side is
showing.
But
that is why I can’t read this scripture without hearing this chorus in my head…
even though, in Andrew Lloyd Weber’s musical, it is the crowd that sings
“what’s the buzz….” But in my head, this scripture is Jesus
asking his disciples… ‘what’s the buzz about me? Who do people say that I am?”
Jesus
and the disciples are walking along and have come to a place calls Cesaerea
Phillipi. This sentence is dropped into
the scripture without much fanfare, but it deserves a little more
attention. Cesaerea Phillipi is a city
in the northern reaches of the Galilee, which is north of Jerusalem. It is at the end of the Judeo world. It was a city built to honor Caesar and named
for Herod’s son Phillip, and so is very regal, impressive and imperial in design. But it was a place with notable natural
features long before that. In Cesarea
Phillipi, waters spring out of the earth that become the mighty Jordan river, a
Holy place for Jews then and now. This
seems to be the starting point of those waters. Because of the spring, the
entire setting is lush with vegetation and looks down on an expanse of green –
which is a contrast to the usual color of rock and desert in that part of the
world. And just like on the Niobrara,
there’s great rock wall that rises in the middle of the town, setting a sort of
amphitheater background. Given these
natural gifts, ancient peoples had constructed several shrines to their various
Gods at this location. The Greeks, who
worship Pagan Gods, had carved dozens of grottos in the rock wall with
sculptures of the Greek God Pan in each.
This was the center of Pan worship in the ancient world – God of the
wild, of the shepherd, and of fertility.
Also, behind the spring is a cave with unfathomable depth that is filled
with still water, possibly from the same spring. According to some, this cave was called the
Gates of Hades because it seemed to have no bottom.
It
is with this backdrop that Jesus thinks to ask the disciples what’s the buzz
about him. And, while it often sounds like
some critical test when we read it on Sunday mornings, the verb tense suggests
that it’s actually a more casual conversation.
John
the Baptist, Elijah, Jeremiah, other prophets; their response seems to depend
on the particular faction they belong to, and which figure they are most
partial to. Do they see Jesus as a
rebellious, counter-cultural figure that retreats to the wilderness, wears odd
clothing and harkens the coming apocalypse?
Then Jesus falls in line with John the Baptist. Do they see a man who prophesies hope and
truth, unity and reform, and helps turn a nation back to the ethical
maintenance of keeping God’s commandments?
Then they might see Elijah. Or
another, someone mighty in spirit, compassion and endurance, but known to weep
for the ways the nation has turned astray from God because devastation is
certain? Then they might see
Jeremiah. And how true is this
today? Our tendency is to project onto
Jesus our particular ethnic, cultural or theological allegiances.
I
had the privilege of attending a small luncheon with Rev. John Dorhauer, the
General Minister and President of the National UCC, at Elmhurst College last
year, and he said something that struck me.
He said that in every church he’s ever served, one of the first things
he does is to take note of the pictures and other artwork depicting Jesus. He makes a mental note of how many depict a
European man, with light brown hair, creamy white skin and round eyes, and how
many – if any – depict Jesus, or other holy figures like Mary, as something
more historically accurate. Because,
like the disciples, we have for centuries projected ourselves onto Jesus. And while we know biologically and
geographically that there’s no way Jesus would have resembled a white guy –
that this Semitic man who would have, in the least, resembled an Arab with
olive skin, dark eyes and a long nose – was geographically more likely to have
dark skinned African traits in his geneology like dark skin and fuzzy hair,
than Scandinavian traits like blue eyes and straight hair. Yet we still display icons in our
congregations that mirror our own physical traits, putting us white people in
the center of the story that is so important to our lives – but likewise,
pushing others out of that story.
We
all have a tendency to project onto Jesus what we want to see. We believe in a Jesus who welcomes everyone –
but just last week we talked about a scripture where Jesus very bluntly told a
woman that his power wasn’t intended for her.
We believe in a giving Jesus who loves all – and yet, he seems to
constantly be trying to get away from the crowds and his disciples. We believe in a loving Jesus who welcomes the
little children – but we forget when he gets angry and dishes out some pretty
harsh criticism.
The
truth is, Jesus betrays our expectations and defies our estimations. Jesus refuses to live inside the box we have
built for him. Two of my favorite
theologians – John Dominic Crossan and Catherine Keller – summarize this
unpredictability by calling him God’s parable. Parables are lessons
encapsulated in story that are decidedly un-authoritarian; un-hierarchical. Like poetry, Parables seem different in each
listener’s ear. Parables are often
contradictory – like the kingdom of heaven being like a mustard seed. They are interpreted and reinterpreted in
every age. They are living things because they require active thinking, rather
than passive explanation. Parables reveal what is concealed and conceal what is
revealed. As Jesus says, to you have
been given the mysteries of heaven – but he said nothing about explaining the
mystery!
Crossan
once said, “He died a parabler, and rose a parable.” And like Parables, Jesus is both the
Incarnate and the Divine. He is both
prophetic and playful. He is both compassionate
and crabby. He is both iconic and
ironic. He is both concerned for God’s
Kingdom and eternal life, and concerned for physical maladies and earthly life
of all he encounters. He is the Messiah
and the Son of the living God.
With
our 21st Century ears, we are used to the phrase, ‘Messiah’ as
applying to Jesus and only Jesus. But in
his times, Jesus wasn’t the only man referred to in that way. Messiah literally means ‘the anointed
one’. The anointed person was
chosen, designated, qualified, and consecrated to a position with the
correlated task of delivering
Israel from her bondage. In reflection
on Jesus and his ministry, the word has understandably taken on more meaning.
However,
Matthew goes further. This conversation between
Peter and Jesus is present in Mark’s gospel, and paraphrased in John. But only in Matthew do we hear this phrase,
‘Son of the living God’ – which carries a different weight, to be sure. Matthew, more than any other gospel, is the
gospel that helps the church imagine what its interaction with the world should
look like. Matthew retells the story
with an eye to whom we should be in the world.
And it’s telling, here, in this passage.
To
say, “Son of the Living God.”… the ‘living God’ – a God that is present,
here, now, with us, accompanying us, walking with us, suffering with us and
celebrating with us… a God that is concerned for our here and now
lives and our forever lives… a God that is not anchored in history but
fully present in our present… that is a glorious thing! A God that is not left in the box of certainty
but flowing and mingling amongst us… a God that is Still Speaking and, like the
parables, still offering new and wonderful insight and interpretation – and
perhaps the occasional course-correction, when we’ve put too many limits and
definitions on God - that is an everlasting God, indeed! A God that interrupts the routine of our
lives with moments of surprising joy, and grace, and beauty, and forgiveness,
and insight. A God that invites us, in
each new generation, to be the church anew – to listen again to the scriptures,
to listen again for the still small voice, and to reassess where our desire to
project ourselves onto Jesus has pushed people out of God’s Kingdom…
that is truly a living God.
As
followers of the Living God, we are charged to embrace that living - whole
life, meaningful life, abundant life – life with others. The Apostle Paul takes this one step
further. In his letter to the church in
Rome, challenges us that to be followers of the living God is to become living offerings
for that God. Because God is here with
us, journeying with us, and our body is the primary location in which we
express our heart, soul, strength and mind.
Every
day in all the places we go, all the things we do, and all the decisions and
recommendations we make, we are presenting our bodies as a living, breathing,
daily “offering to God” as a form of spiritual worship.
Presenting your body as an offering to God may be
in the act of standing on a protest line to speak for those who are afraid, or
standing in a grocery story line to buy food for a homebound neighbor. It may
be in dressing children in the foster system who grow faster than their
suitcase, or addressing letters to policy makers about funding for disabled
housing and mental health treatment. It
may be folding hands in prayer with someone in the hospital asking for comfort,
or teaching children to pray in Vacation Bible School. Presenting your body as a living offering may
be as simple as extending a hug to a recovering addict or single mother or gay
person who has been told that they don’t belong in the kingdom of God – and
showing them that they, like you, belong to the living and loving God and
still-speaking God.
Jesus, the parable, the Messiah and the Son of
the Living God, is the both / and. He is
the beloved and the one doing the loving.
He is the volunteer and the volunteer recruiter. He is the teacher and
the agitator. He is the living and the
resurrected, Man and God. He defies definition and betrays convention – and
calls on us to do the same.
Who is it that you say he is? And, in saying that, what does your name for
the Son of the Living God require of you?
And, what does it require of the church in the world?
Amen and Amen.
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