Sermon for Proper 16
St John's, Albion--Matthew 16:16-30
I’m not exactly at the tip of the spear when it comes to
awareness of popular culture—a couple of years ago during the Super Bowl I had
to admit on Facebook that I had never before heard of the halftime headliner …
it was Katy Perry that year … I now know who Katy Perry is, but I didn’t
then—like I said, I may have trouble with my knowledge of celebrities, but I
don’t exactly live under a rock either. I pay attention to the news, I watch
television and movies, I read articles and blog posts, and I do so with my
antennae up for how the area of my greatest interest—religion in general,
Christianity in particular, Anglicanism even more in particular—I pay attention
to how the world I live in every day is perceived and understood by the world
“out there.” And what comes through loudly and clearly and consistently is that
the world “out there” believes that all religious questions ultimately boil
down to one: Does God exist?
Now, for me personally, God’s existence is one of his least
interesting attributes. But, for a lot of other people, that’s the question on
which everything else turns. It’s as if, by comparison, no other question
matters, no matter which way you resolve it.
So, can the substance of the Christian faith really be
boiled down to believing in the existence of God? Does the first article of the
Creed render all the others irrelevant? I hope you are answering to yourselves, “No, of course not.”
But if we’re really honest, that is where we mentally want to draw the line,
isn’t it? It does seem to be the fundamental religious question, and we
sometimes tend to judge people as “one of us” or “one of them” depending on whether they “believe in
God,” and not much else.
With our feelings, if not with our minds, we tend to affirm that
the primary mission and message of Christianity is that people should believe
in God, and that believing in God is the essential profession of faith that one
needs to make.
Our Lord Jesus, however, might have another idea, a more
pointed question, a question with more profound implications. St Matthew’s
gospel records for us a well-known incident in which Jesus was with his
disciples in the old Gentile city of Caesarea Philippi. He puts to them a
question, “What are people saying about me? Who do they think I am?” They respond
with a variety of answers, all of them involving the re-incarnation of some
prominent dead person.
Then Jesus sharpens the pencil, and makes it personal: “What
about you? Who do you think I am?” And Simon Peter answers for himself and the
other disciples, “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.” For all of us
who profess to be Christians, then,
for all of us who profess to be disciples of the same Jesus
who interrogated his disciples in Caesarea Philippi, the question “Who is
Jesus?” — not merely “Does God exist?”— is the critical question of faith.
Philosophers—both the professional kind and the ordinary
variety that all of us are from time to time—have long pondered the
existence-of-God question. Students of philosophy learn about Anselm’s
“ontological argument” and “Pascal’s wager.” But it’s evident that there has
yet to be any universally recognized conclusive proof of the matter, because
people still keep talking about it!
I wonder, though, sometimes, just why we keep talking about
it. Perhaps we’re stuck on the existence-of-God question because it’s a much
“safer” question than the one Jesus poses. We can debate the existence of God
abstractly, in theory, hypothetically. And if we manage to continue the
friendly conversation long enough, we may never have to face the other
question, the question of Jesus’s identity, the question that peers into the
depths of our souls and demands a personal answer—not a hypothetical answer,
not a theoretical answer, but an honest, personal answer. “What about you—Who
do you say that I am?," Jesus wants to know.
In a Christian universe, it’s the answer to this question
that divides belief from unbelief, faith from doubt. It’s the “Final Jeopardy”
question which cannot be evaded—it just comes at the end of the program, the
end of the game. And it’s for all the marbles, the whole enchilada. Who is
Jesus?
Peter’s confession of Jesus as the Christ, the Messiah, the
Anointed One of God, the Son of the Living God—this is what constitutes and
defines the nature of Christian faith, this is what spells out the message and
mission of the Church. The content of the Christian faith cannot be reduced to
the first article of the Creed. Please don’t misunderstand me when I say this,
but God is not enough. Of course, I don’t mean that God is somehow inadequate
or insufficient. What I mean is that simply acknowledging the existence of a
Supreme Being, an Ultimate Reality, even praying to or worshiping such a Deity,
does not constitute saving, life-giving faith. It’s a necessary step, but it’s
a baby step, and, strange as it may sound, I’m not sure it necessarily needs to
be the first step in one’s walk of faith. I have known of people who have wrestled
long and hard with the philosophical questions, then met Jesus, and confessed
his lordship, and only after that step been able to say with assuredness, “I
believe in God.”
Wrestling with the philosophical issues of God’s existence
is all well and good, but not if we get stuck there, not if it keeps us from
facing the real question, “Who is Jesus?” So please don’t settle for just plain “God.” Don’t settle
for that from me as your bishop or Fr Bill as your priest. Don’t settle for
that from your brothers and sisters here at St John’s Church. Don’t settle for
that from anyone or anything else in your religious universe. You deserve much
more! You deserve the fullness of the gospel of Jesus Christ!
When we settle for the Supreme Deity of the philosophers, we
are left with a vaguely comforting but terribly bland religion that will
eventually bore us to tears and accomplish absolutely nothing for the eternal
well-being of our souls, and, when all is said and done, precious little for
the state of human life in this world. It’s like taking an analgesic drug that
numbs the pain but does nothing to address the source of the pain. Those drugs are nice on a short-term basis, but they can
become quite a problem, in ways I don’t even need to name, over the long haul.
But when, instead of depending on pain killers, we submit to and cooperate with
a demanding regimen of physical therapy that requires our active participation
and effort, rather than simply having something done to us or for us, we open
ourselves to the possibility of lasting change and improvement. In the same
way, when we get beyond the first article of the Creed, and into the rest of
it, we discover a religious inheritance that is strong, rich, nourishing, challenging,
and effective. It is capable of seeing us through the very valley of the shadow
of death. Indeed, the Lutheran theologian Robert Jenson has defined God as
“whoever raised Jesus from the dead.”
I will not deceive you. This inheritance comes to us in the
shape of a cross, as we will discover more clearly the readings for next
Sunday. But it’s a cross that becomes the road to eternal life, the way of
everlasting peace and joy and reconciliation. I can make no finer response to
this mystery than by echoing the words of St Paul, as he concludes the eleventh
chapter of his epistle to the Romans: “O the depth of the riches and wisdom and
knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgements and how inscrutable his
ways! From him and through him and to him are all things. To him be glory forever.
Amen.”
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