Not What He Thought it Meant
Preacher: The Rev. Andrew Van Kirk
Passage: Mark 8:27-38
The event recorded in today's gospel reading, the one in which Peter answers Jesus' probing question, "But who do you say that I am?" with "You are the Messiah," this event is so critical a moment that it has its own feast day in the Church. January 18 is the feast of The Confession of St. Peter the Apostle. It has its own collect – those thematic prayers for the day – that remembers Peter's answer and asks God to help "keep your Church steadfast upon the rock of this faith." It is a big deal.
The very next thing, however, in which Jesus identifies Peter as an agent of Satan, that incident does not have its own feast day. Logically, January 19 should probably be "The Calling of Peter 'Satan' By Our Lord Jesus Christ." It's not. It's actually the minor feast day of Wulfstan, Bishop of Worcester who died in 1095.
Peter, you know, really had his ups and downs. Moments of sheer, stupendous insight; arroyos of courage. And also he had some rough moments. Perhaps, like me, you can relate. I certainly have ups and downs in my relationship with Jesus.
My favorite way to explain what happened in this whiplash inducing sequence is that Jesus pulled an Inigo Montoya on Jesus. Sure, Inigo Montoya. You remember him; from The Princess Bride? You know, the one famous for the line, "My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die."
Ok, ok. In the movie The Princess Bride, Inigo Montoya is one of three bandits. The other two are Fezzik, a giant Turkish wrestler, and Vizzini. Vizzini is the leader; he's the fairy-tale version of a short, balding, Sicilian crime boss. And after kidnapping a maiden, the bandits are on the run. Inigo keeps thinking they are being followed. Vizzini keeps assuring him that would be "inconceivable." "Absolutely, utterly, inconceivable." But they are being followed, by the Man in Black. Inigo keeps conceiving of their being followed; Vizzini keeps deeming such a thing inconceivable, and it keeps happening.
Finally, the bandits get to a sheer cliff which they ascend with a rope. The Man in Black is following them up, gaining on them, getting ever closer. And as they get to the top of the cliff just ahead of him, this happens.
Inigo could take the misuse of "inconceivable" no longer without saying something. Jesus felt the same way about "messiah."
"You keep using that word, I do not think it means what you think it means."
Of course, what Jesus actually says is "Get behind me, Satan." Which I'll admit, is slightly different in tone. It's not as funny, but one thing you have to admit about "Get behind me, Satan!" is that the point is clearly communicated. It sounds harsh, but it's harsh in the same way that I might yell, "Get out of the street, car!" at my kids. When there's much at stake, clarity is a virtue.
But the underlying problem is Peter didn't know what he was talking about. The word "messiah" doesn't mean what Peter thinks it means.
See, after Peter's confession of Jesus as the Messiah, Jesus began to teach his disciples what that means. We're in verse 31 if you want to follow along. He began to teach them that "the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again." This, Jesus said, was what the word "messiah" really meant.
And so Peter – you know, he's a leader – he takes Jesus aside and says…well, we don't know quite what he says, but it was probably something like this: "Uhh…boss…we need to get something straight. You seem to have misunderstood about this whole 'messiah' thing. All that suffering and dying, that's now how it works. The messiah doesn't suffer, he triumphs. He doesn't get rejected by all the important people, he becomes the boss of all the important people. And he doesn't get killed, the messiah kills all our enemies, and then rules on the throne of David. That's how messiah works. And that's going to be awesome!"
And to that, Jesus says, "Get behind me, Satan!"
See, Peter and the disciples they wanted the Inigo-Montoya-Jesus who would be like, "My name is Jesus Christ. You do not worship my Father. Prepare to die!" Instead they got the Inigo-Montoya-Jesus who was like, "You keep using that 'messiah' word. I do not think it means what you think it means."
We skipped over one little part of this story earlier: verse 30. Right after Peter names Jesus as the Messiah, Jesus "sternly ordered them not to tell anyone about him."
This is an example of what Biblical scholars call "The Messianic Secret." Throughout the gospels, but most prominently in the Gospel of Mark, Jesus repeatedly tells people not to tell anyone else about who he really his–and especially don't let it slip that he is the Messiah. Those to whom it is revealed, or those who figure it out (often the demons he casts out) are strongly ordered to keep their mouths shut. Why? Why would Jesus try to keep such good news under wraps.
Peter (and once Peter said it all the apostles) knew "The Messianic Secret." They just didn't know what it meant. And since they didn't know what it meant, they weren't ready to go around proclaiming it. In fact, I'd venture that most of the time Jesus commanded people not tell anyone about him, it is for this reason: they knew enough about Jesus to identify him as the Messiah, but they didn't know enough to identify what that meant. They didn't know what 'messiah' meant from God's perspective. And what it means from a human perspective is all wrong.
Because it's not just Peter, of course, that has made this mistake. Jesus knows that. The next thing he does is he calls the whole crowd together. Not just his disciples, but everyone. And he explains to them what "messiah" actually means. "If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel's will save it."
Like the crowd Jesus called together, we probably spend more time than we should pretending like "Messiah" means something other than it does, still trying to ramrod the promises of our crucified Lord into the categories of success as defined by this adulterous and sinful generation.
Their are saints whose lives have a clarity to them that let us see right through to what Jesus actually meant: people like Deitrich Bonhoeffer, who was martyred in Nazi Germany; or Mother Teresa of Calcutta, who gave virtually all of her many years to serving the poor; or, yes, Wulfstan, Bishop of Worcester, who died in 1095. Wulfstan is best remembered for his opposition to the slave trade. He was an 11th century abolitionist.
I can make no promises that there is a Wulfstan among us here at St. Andrew's. But I will also make no promises here at St. Andrew's that if you would just pray and read your Bible and tithe more you'll be blessed with all sorts of worldly success and physical health. This is not a place where you'll ever hear a promise from the pulpit that if you just trust God you won't get COVID. We may not get the following the messiah right part all the time, but we will not be the sort of church that takes Jesus aside and tries to explain to him what messiah really means.
We will try and let him teach us what it means. As a a messiah-following place, St. Andrew's will be sure you'll have chances to serve; chances to lose bits of your life to loving others, living out the gospel, and carrying your cross. Sometimes you'll be hands-on, like our brothers and sisters from the Congregation at Hidden Springs who came over and packed fall boxes for Meals on Wheels this week (and decorated them with adorable construction paper pumpkins). And sometimes you'll hand off the cross like an Olympic torch, putting $10 in the Matthew's Fund box on your birthday, which with Lisa will work with a school resources officer to pay for a prescription for a junior high kid so he can pay attention and succeed in school. There's a place here for everyone, from the wealthy to the struggling, to give to work that transforms and saves people's lives.
There's a place here at St. Andrew's for the retired to lead those with fancy job titles, for the homebound to lead the charge in prayer, for the terminally ill to bless the living with their witness and grace.
I can't promise you any sort of gain, except life. I can't because Jesus didn't. When Peter tried to get Jesus to promise something he got called some not-so-great names.
But the life part that Jesus did promise is pretty good. Without fail, the people who give more live more. And I don't mean that in the narrow sense "give." It's only about money if that's what you have to give. And I don't mean it in the narrow sense of live. This is not about breathing more breaths.
What I mean is that the people who give the most of their themselves – lose themselves – in following Jesus have the most life and joy and love in themselves. Jesus is actually promising more than we can imagine.
Peter could imagine quite a lot when he imagined what messiah meant. But that word did not mean what he thought it meant. It meant something more. Still does. Amen.
