Who Do You Say That I Am?

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

This morning Jesus wants to know. It’s been long enough. His disciples have been with him for a few years. They have seen him heal the sick, drive out demons, and miraculously feed a hungry crowd of 5,000. They’ve heard him teach and they know something about what he believes. Now Jesus wants to know if the truth has dawned on them and if so, are they brave enough to say it out loud? And so, at this midpoint in the Gospel of Mark as they are traveling the road from Bethsaida to Caesarea Philippi, Jesus takes this moment to ask the disciples a couple of questions. First, he throws them a softball, he asks them a question that requires nothing of them other than to report what they have heard. “Who do people say that I am,” Jesus asks his friends. “Elijah or one of the prophets,” they respond.

But then Jesus asks them the real question, “Who do you say that I am?” I can imagine that there was a long and rather uncomfortable pause with the disciples looking at each other wondering who was going to speak. Finally, it was Peter who took the risk to put into words what so many others would consider blasphemous, “You are the Messiah,” he said.

In my mind’s eye, I can see Jesus sighing with relief. The disciples had figured out his identity, but now the question becomes – do they know what that means? Jesus tells them rather matter-of-factly that as the Messiah he must suffer, be rejected by all in authority and be killed. But this was not at all what the disciples believed the Messiah was supposed to do – and Peter called him on it.

Peter probably said something like, ‘Come on, snap out of it, when you raise your army there won’t be any need for you to suffer and die. In fact, you will be the one who inflicts suffering and death on those Romans for what they have done to our people. Then you will become king, king of all Israel just like King David of old.’ Like so many people in those days and frankly, so many people these days, Peter believed that Jesus was primarily interested in solving the political dilemma of the day. Peter thought that Jesus’ only purpose was to kick out the Romans who occupied Israel and create a new Jewish state.

But Jesus was not interested in creating any kind of state. The Kingdom of God that he proclaimed is so much bigger than any single political system that it’s like the difference between a shoe box and the Washington Monument. Jesus wasn’t trying to fix who rules in Palestine, he was trying to redeem humanity itself. His work on the latter may well fix the former but Jesus knew Peter’s focus was too small, too limited, to wrapped up in the importance of power, so Jesus rebuked him, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”

In the same way today, we often warp the Christian faith when we see it primarily as a tool to achieve our political aspirations rather than as the answer to the brokenness of the human condition. Yes, what Jesus taught has immense political implications – he shows us what it means to be truly human – but politics wasn’t his answer – his answer was and is self-sacrificing love – as the savior willing to suffer and die in order to restore to us a life worth living and a life worth giving away.¹ Simply put, Jesus is not a culture-warrior, he is the redeemer of the whole world. Do his teachings have important ramifications for some of our cultural conflicts? Absolutely. But to try and pin Jesus down and box him into any kind of human political framework is to demean what we call the Good News.

I’ve said on several different occasions that if your God looks too much like your political party then you’ve probably latched onto something that isn’t really God. Or as Anne Lamott once said, “You can safely assume you’ve created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do.” In fact, countless times over the history of Christianity there have been those who would try and use the good news of Jesus Christ for their own political purposes. In the fourth century, the Emperor Constantine made Christianity the religion of the Roman Empire not because he was so religious but because he thought he could use this burgeoning religion for his own political benefit. In the 19th century, whole Christian denominations in the southern United States twisted the letters of St. Paul to defend the institution of slavery. And in the 1930’s, fascist Germany perverted the German church into either turning a blind eye or condoning Hitler’s deadly antisemitism.

But none of that is Christianity. As the Rev. Adam Eriksen writes, “Throughout his ministry, Jesus devoted himself to healing the sick . . . and feeding the hungry. He didn’t reveal a God defined by the power to dominate. Rather, he revealed a God defined by the power to love. In fact, the vast majority of his miracles and teachings were about healing and feeding people. He also relentlessly criticized greed and excessive wealth. The power of Jesus’ Kingship is not the power of dominion over others. His Kingship is the power to serve. Jesus consistently reminds his disciples that he came not to be served, but to serve.”²

These days, I am increasingly concerned about our contemporary attempts to twist Christianity to fit our own political agendas. Specifically, I am concerned about the rise of Christian Nationalism. What is Christian Nationalism? Andrew Whitehead and Samuel Perry, define Christian nationalism in their book, Taking America Back for God: Christian Nationalism in the United States. They define the movement as, “a cultural framework–a collection of myths, traditions, symbols, narratives, and value systems – (claiming) that America has been and should always be distinctively “Christian”…from top to bottom–in its self-identity, interpretations of its own history, sacred symbols, cherished values, and public policies–and it aims to keep it that way.”

“Perhaps the best way to describe the difference between Christianity and Christian nationalism,” pastor John Whitsett explains, “is the difference between being a Christian American and an American Christian. We have two loyalties—one to our Heavenly Father and one to our country. But one of those allegiances must be primary. One must take precedence over the other. When we’re an authentic Christian, our devotion to Jesus will always assume priority over our allegiance to our country. But to the Christian nationalist, those two loyalties have become conflated to where allegiance to country is how we demonstrate our commitment to God.”³

Friends, this cathedral may have been created in part to be a great church for national purposes, but let’s be clear, we have no illusion about whose Kingdom matters in the end. The truth is, being a Christian doesn’t come from knowing that Jesus is the Messiah. As Phyllis Kersten points out, it comes from knowing what kind of Messiah Jesus is. “Take up your cross and follow me,” Jesus said to his disciples. The way of the cross is the way of service and sacrifice. It is not about seeking and trying to hold onto power. The way of the cross is the way of love that seeks justice, stands up for truth, and proclaims the dignity and worth of every human being. Jesus never sought power for himself, rather as God incarnate, he gave up power, he emptied himself of power and sacrificed his life for the sake of the whole world. That’s the real good news for you, for me, for all of us. Amen.

¹ Phyllis Kersten in the February 22, 2012 issue of the Christian Century.
² The UnChristianity of Christian Nationalism, Adam Eriksen, https://adamericksen.org/the-unchristianity-of-christian-nationalism/
³ Authentic Christianity vs. Christian Nationalism, John Whitsett.