Questions God Asks Us, Part 7: Who Do You Say I Am?

 Friends, we’re now up to part 7 of this 10 part sermon series based on Questions God Asks Us by a pastor and author named Trevor Hudson. In every chapter of this short book, Hudson takes a question that the Divine asks people in the Bible–either from the voice of our Creator God in the OT, or from Jesus in the NT–and unpacks that question, and looks at how we can respond to it faithfully. 

Today’s question is one that Jesus asks his disciples at a critical turning point of Mark’s Gospel: “who do you say I am?” It’s right at the halfway point in Mark. Before asking that question, Jesus just miraculously fed 5,000 people, and performed several healing miracles. After that question, Jesus starts trying to prep his disciples for his death on the cross. When he asks the question himself, the disciples have several takes on what kind of important person Jesus might be: one has him confused with his cousin, John the Baptist. One thinks he might be a reincarnation of the Old Testament prophet, Elijah. The idea that Jesus could be a reincarnated prophet is a popular one, because a few other disciples chime in with that theory. Then he turns to Peter and asks, “But what about you? Who do you say I am?” It’s a test for a guy who’s pretty inconsistent in his ability to show up for Jesus. This is the same guy who wanted to walk on the water to Jesus, but then sank when he doubted, the guy who balked at the notion that Jesus will die, and the guy who denied knowing Jesus three different times before he died. He means well, but he’s a C student. But, this is one situation where Peter comes through, and calls Jesus the Messiah–that is, the anointed one, and the Moschiach, to use a Hebrew term. The one who God set aside to do the important work Israel needed.

It’s the correct answer on that test. But it’s also the academic answer. The one that reflects my seminary education. I like to use it, it was expensive.

But what about us? Who do we say Jesus is?

Some of us have hung out with traditions that teach that Jesus needs to be your Lord and Personal Savior. I have, too. At my very first meeting with the District Committee on Ordained Ministry, when I was a wee 22 year old seminarian, they asked me, Who Do You Say Jesus Is? Wanting to knock the DCOM’s socks off with the Right Answer, I said that I’d been taught were the magic words of Christianity: “Jesus is my Lord and Personal Savior!” But the same person who prompted me in the first place poked further, the same way Jesus did with the disciples: but what does that actually mean to you, Natalie? Who do YOU say Jesus is? Well, I wasn’t prepared at all for follow up questions, so I fell flat on my face. That’s not a bad answer, if it’s your answer. But learn from the DCOM the same way I did: this question isn’t about saying the perfect words. It’s about saying the right words for YOU.

Who do you say Jesus is?

We have a number of stock Christian answers for this question, just like I did when I was 22.

A prophet.

A great moral teacher.

The reason for the season.

I went on an internet deep dive with the question, and I was delighted to discover how funny people are.

He’s my homeboy.

He’s a first century carpenter turned spiritual influencer.

He’s the guy whose face appears on the wall, in the fish tank, or on my toast, and then the media shows up.

Some of us answer with skepticism: Jesus is Lord, a liar, or a lunatic.

That attitude is the perfect segue to this morning’s Gospel lesson. It’s a story that’s heavily quoted, but very strange. The story begins with the Pharisees hanging out with the Herodians, and both groups decide to approach Jesus together. This might not sound remarkable to our modern ears, but Jesus would have clocked it right away because it made NO sense. The Pharisees, Jesus’ well-established antagonists, were Temple authorities, obsessed with maintaining the letter of the Hebrew Law. The Pharisees were no strangers to political arguments, especially when those arguments overlapped with their understanding and practice of Law. And the most heated political argument of their day was about the Roman soldiers occupying their land. The Pharisees were clear that they wanted Rome OUT of Palestine. The Herodians, on the other hand, were pro-King Herod (hence the name), and pro-Rome. For Jesus, seeing the Pharisees and the Herodians talking must be like if we saw Sean Hannity and Rachel Maddow painting each other’s nails. It makes no sense, except for the one thing the Pharisees and the Herodians did have in common: their contempt for Jesus. This morning, the Pharisees have decided that the enemy of their enemy is their frenemy.

These frenemies are now stomping over to Jesus, and Jesus has gotta be rolling his eyes so hard he’s seeing the inside of his head. They’ve picked the perfect polarizing Jesus-stumping question: should we pay taxes?

Good thing this argument is a thing of the past, because nobody ever gets mad about taxes anymore.

All eyes are on Jesus. Every single answer to “who do you say Jesus is” is hanging in the air. To the Roman soldiers, the scary dudes with swords who are never more than a few feet away, Jesus is a problem. A rebel. And a popular one. He could incite a riot with one word. The Herodians see him as a threat. The Pharisees see him as a rule breaker. The common people, stuck in the middle, watching how this will go down? They see Jesus as an inspiration. A healer. Their most trusted teacher. Their friend. Their role model. They fiercely resent paying taxes that drive them into poverty. If Jesus says you shouldn’t pay your taxes, he’ll be seized by the soldiers and dead by tomorrow. If he says you should pay your taxes, he’ll face the wrath of the mob. 

Ultimately, he cuts his answer into a politically nonpartisan shape with surgical precision: money is a temporary fabrication of the government. Those coins have the emperor’s face on them, and declare him divine. They’re offensive. How do you get rid of your blasphemous emperor-worshipping coins? Pay your taxes. But God owns everything, including the metals that made those coins in the first place. God will melt them down one day and use those resources to build something far better.

Among the answers you’ll find for “who do you say Jesus is” are manipulative, politically partisan ones. Ones that would see Jesus hitch his wagon to one politician, one political party, or one specific political ideology, in perpetuity. 

Jesus is a Republican.

Jesus is a Democrat.

Jesus would vote for That Guy.

As vexing as it can be for us in this life of constant mudslinging and political yardsigns in front of every house, Jesus refused to align himself with any one political cause, even to save his life on the cross. Remember how the crowds at his crucifixion demanded that Barrabbas be set free, and Jesus killed? Barrabbas was an insurgent who loudly–and violently–rebelled against Rome. Jesus refused to be part of a violent insurrection. He insisted on a higher truth, and a higher path, even if he had to die for it.

Who do I say Jesus is?

He’s pro-Abundant Life. He’s a Prince of Peace. In prayer, I call him “mein bester Freund”, my best friend.

There are so many ways to describe Jesus: teacher, healer, Rabbi, way maker, chain breaker, wonderful counselor, good shepherd, immanuel.

Who do YOU say Jesus is? Who is he to your own heart? There’s no wrong answer, but Jesus is looking for YOUR answer.

John Wesley’s answer was that Jesus is a bridge: Heaven connected with Earth. Jesus brings a new reality, a new creation, to us.

Amen.