Rev.
Debbie Cato
Psalm 107:1-3; 17-22 and Matthew 16:21-23
Listening God, If we could attach ourselves to you, we would. We would scribble your scripture onto our tender hearts. We would weave your good news into the fiber of our being. We would bind ourselves to you, but instead, we wander. Instead of attaching ourselves to you, we find ourselves swept up in the business of the day. Like a seesaw of faithfulness, we move back and forth, up and down, constantly trying to find you in the midst of it all. So speak clearly to us now. Quiet the distractions long enough for us to attach ourselves to your good news. We are listening. We are hungry. We are hopeful. Amen.
I’m Fixed Upon It
As Matthew’s narrative continues to unfold, Peter, the solid rock on which the church will stand, malforms into a stumbling block that threatens to obstruct Jesus’ mission.
Just
moments ago (at least in narrative time), as Jesus and his disciples walked in
the region of Caesarea Philippi, Peter and the disciples pondered Jesus’
question: “Who do you say that I am?” Not limiting himself to the options
offered by others, Peter proclaimed his answer: “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living
God.”[1]
Peter was absolutely sure. He didn’t waiver. You are the Messiah, the Son of
the living God.
Peter got
it right. But in the next instant, Peter gets it wrong. Wrong enough for Jesus
to call him Satan. One minute Peter is
on the top of a mountain, recognizing the divinity of Jesus and the next he’s
opposing Jesus’ teachings about his future.
A future Jesus had described before.
When Jesus told Peter he would be the rock on which he would build his church, Peter must have seen security, influence, and power. It is hard to resist their glorious lure.
Perhaps
that is Peter’s challenge. He cannot help thinking that his close association
with the Messiah will right all that is wrong about the world.
But
Jesus’ announcement of the ugly death about to unfold in Jerusalem point to
anything but the glory of security, influence, or power. What about the new
church, and its authority to bind and to loose? What about withstanding the
power of death (“the gates of Hades”)? How can these things happen if God’s own
anointed one is to be tortured and executed?!
No wonder Peter protests. “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen
to you!” But, Jesus’ response is swift and to the point: “Get behind me,
Satan!”[2]
The
similarity to Jesus’ command to the devil in the wilderness is clear: “Away
with you, Satan!” Could it be that
Peter’s passionate plea that God would prevent the horrors about to be visited
upon Jesus, is something like the Tempter’s offerings in the wilderness? There is a difference though. In the wilderness, Jesus commanded Satan be
banished from him. “Away with you,
Satan!” To Peter, Jesus says, “Get behind me, Satan!” a reminder to Peter that
he is a disciple and Jesus is Lord. The
proper place for a disciple is behind Jesus, listening and trusting – not
second-guessing what Jesus is saying.
This is not the first time Peter falters, nor will it be the last. To be sure, Peter is the first to follow Jesus when called. Peter is the one who got out of the boat and took that giant step of faith. It’s Peter who gets top billing whenever the disciples’ names are listed in Matthew. Peter is an eager student, unafraid to ask for an interpretation after Jesus tells yet another puzzling parable. And it is Peter who just declared Jesus as Messiah, the Son of God.
But it’s
also Peter who often puts his foot in his mouth – like now when he exclaims
that what Jesus is saying can never happen.
Jesus must have been tempted by what Peter said to him. Jesus certainly would have preferred not to
have to talk about suffering and death.
Perhaps Peter is naming something like a fear within Jesus and bringing
it to light. It scares Jesus, and he
responds forcefully – “Get behind me, Satan!”
There is a sting to Peter’s words, a challenge that Jesus reacts
to. Why wouldn’t Jesus be fearful?[3]
Peter also
reminds us of our humanity: that’s his gift to us. One minute he’s on a mountaintop proclaiming
Jesus as the Messiah and his faith is on fire.
The next he’s wanting to refuse to believe Jesus’ message and His call
to discipleship. Sound familiar?
Following God is hard. We’re often overwhelmed by discipleship, and so we turn away or are tempted to turn away. Jesus’ call to take up our cross and follow is a vision to keep us on the path. When we hear that people in our country, in our community, are suffering from hunger we often don’t believe that our voices and actions can make a difference. When we see the reports of all the violence in our communities, we would rather turn our backs and say it doesn’t have anything to do with us. When we witness someone being mistreated or treated unfairly, we would rather stay out of it than follow Jesus’ example of working toward justice, peace, healing and wholeness.[4]
We can
give up and be silent, or we can keep on making noise. The moments when we are tempted to give up
are when we confront the gap between humans and God and between who Jesus is
and who we want Jesus to be.[5]
Discipleship
is not about you or me; it’s about God, which is what Jesus means by the
language of denying ourselves. We are
not to forget who we are, but rather to figure out who we are in Jesus and as
people carrying the name Christian.
Disciples are witnesses, speaking what they see even when they don’t
feel that anybody is listening or wanting to listen. Disciples name evil for what it is; they
persevere with Jesus’ message.[6]
Like
Peter, we will have times of unstoppable faith – mountaintop experiences. And we will have times when our faith is
shaken, when we are filled with doubt, when we aren’t sure we believe
anymore. When Jesus told Peter “Get
behind me Satan.” He did not abandon Peter.
He continued to keep him in his inner circle and teach him and love him.
Brian McLaren, in his book faith after doubt, uses the image of tree rings to describe stages of faith, with the innermost ring representing Stage One and the outward growth representing subsequent stages. Each new stage builds upon the previous ones, which means that even if it feels like you are losing your faith, you still hold onto the gifts you gained from each stage. Like a tree, the dark ring lines represent dormant seasons (fall and winter), and the wider areas in between represent growth seasons (spring and summer).[7]
This image reminds us that even when we are filled with doubt or when we aren’t sure we believe anymore; when our faith unravels - what we have believed in the past; what we have learned in the past does not disappear. It may lie dormant for a season. It may need to change. To be open to a new interpretation. When our faith returns. it is new, it’s different, it's stronger and richer. And the beauty is, when we can’t believe or are just filled with doubt, we can still pray, and God will listen and continue to love us and surround us with His presence. God never leaves us. Even if we leave Him. Thanks be to God.
Jesus invites you and me to be disciples, to take him up on the offer of selfless power. It’s a risky invitation to accept because it means living in the tension of hearing ourselves make the great confession “Jesus, you are the Messiah!” one minute and hearing Jesus rebuke us with the words, “Get behind me, Satan!” the next. Taking the way of the cross is a real, agonizing process, a task so overwhelming that eventually there is no choice anymore. The only decision is to follow.
I’m going to close with a poem by Rev. Sara Speed from Sanctified Art.
Open Hands
Rev. Sara
Speed, Sanctified Art
We are
born with the ability
to wrap
our fingers around another,
to hold
tight to what we know.
Maybe
that’s where the instinct comes from—
this
clinging,
this
sinking,
this
holding on.
Maybe
that’s why Peter cries, “Never!”
when
Jesus must leave.
From the
very beginning
we’ve
known how to hold tight.
So I
pray:
open up
my hands.
Uncurl my
fingers
one by
one.
Loosen
the grip
that I
hold unyielding.
Remind me
that birds must fly
and
children must grow
and
leaves must fall.
And even
though
we are
born with the ability
to hold
tight,
we can
learn how to love
with open
hands.
[1]
https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-22/commentary-on-matthew-1621-28. August 30, 2020. Audrey West.
[2]
https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-22/commentary-on-matthew-1621-28. August 30, 2020. Audrey West.
[3] “Defining moment: Matthew
16:21-28: Maybe Peter scares Jesus,” by Deanna Langle. The Christian Century.
August 23, 2005. christiancentury.org/article/2005-08/defining-moment
[4] “Defining moment: Matthew 16:21-28: Maybe Peter scares
Jesus,” by Deanna Langle. The Christian Century. August 23, 2005.
christiancentury.org/article/2005-08/defining-moment
[5] “Defining moment: Matthew 16:21-28: Maybe Peter scares
Jesus,” by Deanna Langle. The Christian Century. August 23, 2005.
christiancentury.org/article/2005-08/defining-moment
[6] “Defining moment: Matthew 16:21-28: Maybe Peter scares
Jesus,” by Deanna Langle. The Christian Century. August 23, 2005.
christiancentury.org/article/2005-08/defining-moment
[7]
McLaren, Brian. faith after doubt. St.
Martin’s Publishing. 2023.
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