The Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 16a, August 24, 2014, The Rev Rick Stecker

Jesus is in the district of Caesarea-Philippi. He is in foreign land. Today we would place him ten miles from Mt. Hermon and two miles east of the Golan Heights. He is near a spring, in a place called Pannias, one of the sources of the Jordan River. As is the case with many springs in ancient times, there are shrines and temples dedicated in thanksgiving for a life source. Back then, there was a shrine to the god Pan, the god of flocks and herds, and Pan is portrayed as having a man’s body and having the horns and legs of a goat. His sudden appearance is cause for surprise; we get the word panic from this god’s name. And so in Caesarea-Phillipi there is a shrine to the god Pan as well as a large temple to Caesar and several more temples to fertility gods. Fertility gods were believed to abide in the underworld during the winter (sort of like going to Florida) and they returned to the earth in the spring. The caves, which produced water, were thought to be entrance places to the underworld. I visited Israel some years ago and on this site now stands a mosque.

It is in this mysterious and Holy place – the source of power, fertility and fear that Jesus asks his disciples whom they believe him to be. From earlier chapters in Matthew’s Gospel (if we can assume any chronology on the part of Matthew), Jesus had taught them in profound parables. In recent weeks, we have heard scripture that recounts his performance of many miracles. One might think that the answer is so obvious that it begs the question. Yet it is here in Pannias that Jesus asks his disciples who he might be.

Now this is a curious question for me, especially given the setting. They are in foreign territory, surrounded by temples to competing gods. It feels a bit like us here at Emmanuel on Newbury Street with Tiffany, Burberry, Dolce and Gabbana competing for our allegiance with their allure – of luxury and status and fitness, so that we might signal and feel that we are better, more exquisitely dressed, socially better than others. It works; they make good business equating the metaphorical “lilies of the field,”(those simple flowers that Jesus extolled) with the likes of those who buy their clothes at Wal-Mart. There is “them,” and then there is “us.” This is a problem for the faithful who like nice things. Capitalism has exported this idea throughout the world: “The world is made up of the quick and the hungry,” “It is the fittest who survive,” “We are self-made,” as the sayings go. It is a problem because the sayings are true, we believe, but we do not realize that they work only for a while.

MacArthur Fellow George Saunders gave an address [1] to the students of Syracuse University in which he identifies this attitude as “built-in-confusions” we are born with. The first of these is the belief that “we’re central to the universe.” By this he means that our personal story is the main, most interesting story – the only story really that there is. A second built-in confusion is that we are separate from the universe: there is us and then there is all that other junk, like “swing sets, the State of Nebraska (I would add metal coat hangers that we get from the cleaners), and everyone else. A final confusion is that we are permanent…that death is real – for everyone else but not for us. He then comments about how to get rid of these built in confusions, and it starts, he says, with the awareness about how useless it is to be selfish and elitist. Because in our metaphorical climbing to the top of the Everest of our aspirations and ideals, we can put kindness at bay, sometimes for life, and that is very sad.

Getting back to Matthew, I think that Peter, however fleetingly, comes close to Sander’s observations and adds to them when he blurts, “You are the Messiah,” which is another way of saying, “You are what a human being should be, attentive to the Holy in all things, you are the Son of the living God.”

It is this understanding which comes not from separating out the Holy as distinct from all else, but from seeing all things as Holy. It comes by being a window, like Jesus, through which love, and hope, and forgiveness, and unity, and peace are transmitted to one another. It is where our Darwinian confusion must end. It begins when we adopt a vision of life that has room for God.

Twenty-nine years ago I was a Procter Fellow at Episcopal Divinity School, studying under theologian John H. Snow. I am now editing his papers. He once wrote this:

“When God spoke and said, ‘This is my beloved Son with whom I am well pleased.’ God was addressing humanity. God was saying, ‘If you want to know who I am and if you want to know what reality is, if you want to understand what I have created and why, and why I have created you, look very closely at this piece of history which recounts Jesus’ ministry. This is the most complete answer you are ever going to get to these questions.

“Look closely at this Jewish peasant, and keep your eye on this man, listen to what he says, and watch how he deals with the people around him and the creation within which he moves. See how he addresses the sick, the crippled, the blind and the deaf. See how he relates to outcasts and sinners. Listen to what he has to say to his enemies, to his persecutors, to the religious and secular authorities. See how he uses his time; what is important to him and what is unimportant to him. Watch him at weddings and funerals. See how he loves and cares about children. Pay attention to how he treats women and how quickly they understand who he is.

“Consider his attitudes toward the use of force and violence. Notice his courage when he is afraid. Notice that there are things that make him angry, and pay attention to what they are. Notice how at home he is in the world, how he acts as if he has a right to be there, and how he enjoys being here.

“Appreciate Jesus generosity of spirit, his hospitality, how he likes to feed and welcome anyone who comes along. And pay attention to how he dies, how his fear of pain and death do not stop his expression of love and concern for his friends and family and how alert he is to the pain of his neighbor in his own pain. Look at how he meets death itself as a completion and perfection of his life, not as bad luck or a dirty trick.

“But above all, continue to pay attention to when he dies. Watch as he is taken down from the cross and washed and wrapped in grave cloths by the women and put in a tomb…and notice a bit later that the tomb is empty. Finally notice how much this person, my beloved child, is like you.”

Peter said, “You are the Messiah, the Son off the living God.” And we, attentive to the ordinary, and not separating it out, we are windows, and yes, even with the allure of all the competing gods around us – we just might be Messiah to each other, and even to the world.

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