Pentecost 17 Year B
Sermon Preached by Reverend Michael Hillier on Sunday, 15 September 2024.
Mark 8.27 – 38
Mark tells the story of Jesus through a narrative that gives us a picture of Jesus with some of His travels. But we notice a deeper story unfolding all the time. It’s a continuous revelation, hidden just below the surface of daily events, waiting to be seen or sometimes just revealing itself like a spring of water bubbling to the surface.
This deeper story is God’s story, what God is trying to do. His breaking into this world was never intended as a pleasant, relaxing holiday for Him. There was a profound purpose that often surprises us with its unexpected nature.
One of those moments in this deeper story when, like a spring of water, it bubbled to the surface occurred in today’s reading when Jesus and His disciples went north to Caesarea Philippi. But let me begin by taking a step back.
Last week, we saw how Jesus was up in the region of modern-day Lebanon, where we heard of the healing of the Syro-Phoenician woman’s daughter. Jesus then headed further north to escape the crowds and give His disciples some solid teaching. Then, returning south to the Decapolis and the Sea of Galilee region, there were further healings and another feeding, this time of 4000.
Now, Jesus and His disciples head north to Caesarea Philippi. Why there, and what was the significance of Peter’s confession?
Caesarea Philippi was the furthest north Jesus went within the ancient borders of biblical Israel.
It did not have a large population then, and His seclusion there would have given Him time to think before heading southwards again. We do not even know whether Jesus ventured into the city of Caesarea Philippi itself. Mark only speaks of Him being ‘in the villages around’ it (8.27).
Just beyond this and sometimes seen from 110 km away, Mt. Hermon rose 2,750m and formed a natural barrier.
The Jordan is by far the most important river in the region, and in antiquity, a spring in the large cave here was one of its principal sources. Today, seismic activity has made the water emerge from a crack below the cave. It is no wonder that in the time of Alexander the Great, it became a temple site for Pan, and the temple ruins are still there.
Philip inherited the area from his father, Herod the Great (who had been given it by the emperor Augustus), and built his capital here in 2 BC. He dedicated it to Caesar, which was always a safe move, and then named it after himself to distinguish it from the coastal town of Caesarea.
But the name that took root was not Caesarea Philippi but Caesarea Paneas.
Now, Jesus asks His disciples, ‘Who do people say that I am?’ This leads to the all-important question, ‘Who do you say I am?’ It is a moment of total focus, as if heaven and earth hold their breath in anticipation of Peter’s answer as he speaks on behalf of all the disciples.
Let me now rhetorically ask three questions that follow from Jesus’ questions about who people think He is and who the disciples think He is: Why ask these questions now? Why here at Caesarea Philippi? And why this particular question?
Let me start with the first question, which is why Jesus is asking these questions now. The answer is that He has been solidly teaching His disciples, trying to get them to see below the surface of who He is. He is more than simply a charismatic wonderworker; He is, in fact, God’s Messiah, though even this they misunderstand as Peter then rebukes Jesus for speaking of His forthcoming suffering (8.32).
Jesus also saw that the dark storm clouds were now closing in on Him. And so He asks these seemingly simple questions, which, in fact, have profound implications and will allow Him to understand clearly what the disciples really believe and understand. A lot was hinging on this.
The second question was: Why here at Caesarea Philippi? This was a centre of political power, though not as dangerous for Jesus as the political power centred in Jerusalem. Because His disciples misunderstood the nature of His power and authority, Jesus needed to face this power issue and transform their understanding. In choosing to visit Caesarea Philippi, I think Jesus was symbolically trying to address the nature of this power and distinguish it from human political power.
The disciples and everyone else had been constantly misunderstanding Jesus’ mission. There was a dimension to their thinking that Jesus was to be their king who would throw out the Roman army of occupation. He needed to make clear that this was not what God wanted, and so He did this by pointing out that He would have to suffer and die. Peter was deeply shocked (8.31-33), and I think Peter spoke here for all the disciples.
If Jesus did not squarely address this issue of what kind of Messiah He would be so His disciples could misinterpret it in worldly political terms, it would be disastrous for the early Church. The Church would soon become just another political group seeking power for itself. As we know from Church history, it has often succumbed to this temptation.
Then, my third question was, why this question: Who do people say I am, and more pointedly, who do you say I am? It was an important question that Jesus needed to ask. Christianity is centred in a person, not a series of ideas that reduce it to yet another philosophical belief system. It emerges from our heart.
Some have believed Jesus to be a great moral teacher, a leader, and even someone to be followed. But this belief has not emerged from their hearts. That is why this third question is so important—that we see Jesus personally as our Lord and Saviour.
There is a considerable danger here: we can fall into the trap of modern Western individualism.
That is why I said He is our Lord and Saviour, not my Lord and Saviour. He is that, too, and we see that personalisation with Thomas in that Upper Room a week after Jesus’ first resurrection appearance when he exclaimed, ‘My Lord and my God!’ (John 20.28)
Today’s danger is that personalisation may lead to privatising our faith. Yet we are all in this together. Our faith is not a private affair; it is corporate. There is this natural tension between the personal and the corporate. Both are needed. But not in a privatised way.
‘Who do people say that I am?’ asked Jesus, and we can have a pleasant philosophical and biblical conversation in our heads, never having to commit. But then He faces us with His second question and asks you and me, ‘And who do you say I am?’ That is a question we need to answer personally and from the deepest recesses of our hearts. We cannot, as adults, piggyback on the faith of others like children. And so, the question is: Who is Jesus for you?
And, as Jesus now makes abundantly clear in the text, our answer cannot just slip off our tongue thoughtlessly, for He then talks about taking up our cross and dying to self (8.34-38).
This goes to the heart of who we are and who we are concerning God. It involves our transformation to a degree we can hardly begin to imagine.
So, this question, ‘Who do you say I am?’ is profound and goes to the heart of it all.
Today’s Gospel is pivotal.