Matthew 16:13-20
When Jesus came into the district of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” And they said, “Some say John the Baptist, but others Elijah, and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” Simon Peter answered, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” And Jesus answered him, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven. And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.” Then he sternly ordered the disciples not to tell anyone that he was the Messiah.
Reflection When Jesus poses the question “Who do you say that I am?” and Peter answers, “You are the Messiah,” the matter is not settled. How could Jesus be the Messiah who was supposed to arrive in glory and rescue the Jews from their suffering? To say things did not work out that way is a gross understatement. As we continue the quest to answer the question of Jesus’ identity we discover many and varied answers that have everything to do with point of view.
Let us take a brisk walk through history. Aligned in their Greek understanding that the world of matter is inferior to the world of spirit, one of the earliest Christian doctrines, Docetism, understood Jesus as only appearing to be human. They could not fathom divinity lowering itself to inhabit a perishable body. Being firmly committed monotheism, the Ebionites, Jewish Christians, solved the problem of Jesus’ divinity by suggesting it must have been conferred upon him at baptism. Jesus was truly human, only later became divine by supernatural intervention. The Arians, bent on preserving the singular divinity of God the Father understood Jesus to be subordinate to God but superior to humanity, essentially making Jesus neither human nor divine. A couple hundred years of such arguments lead to the council of Nicaea in 325 which affirms Jesus is of one substance with God but stops short of explaining Jesus’ humanity.
The arguments regarding Jesus’ nature continue. Nestorians argue that Jesus’ two natures are united by will not by substance which means Jesus is dualistic, two. The Monophysites fiercely object, Jesus must be one and the one that he has to be is divine.
For another one hundred and twenty six years bishops excommunicate each other when not cutting off their heads until in 451 we arrive at the Chalcedonian definition of Jesus as “truly God and truly man, two unconfused natures, with the distinct character of each nature preserved in one person.” A brilliant logical and linguistic leap, but really, does that answer your question, “Who do you say that I am?”
Here is yet another perspective. In the Episcopal tradition we study the stories of Jesus, not looking for dogmatic definitions but rather for our own transformation. That is why we refer to scripture as the living Word of God, the Word that invites us into the story, that asks us to be open to the movement of the Spirit that stirs us up and stops us in our tracks with wonder. What is going on here? What is this saying to me? Are you not stunned when Jesus breaks all the rules, eats with sinners, tax collectors and foreign women? shocked when Jesus points his finger at the accusers of a woman caught in adultery rather than at the woman? horrified when Jesus compares a woman begging him to heal her daughter to dogs? nodding in sympathy when Jesus prays to be relieved of his cup of suffering? heartbroken when kneeling at the foot of the cross with the women weeping for the death of a beloved teacher, friend or son?
In my view, and this is only mine, if Jesus is born more holy, divine or godlike than you or me, then I am off the hook. How can I be expected to follow and emulate someone who is qualitatively different than I am? What measure of responsibility must I assume to challenge the status quo and be forgiving, inclusive and willing to die for the good of others if I can claim, “Of course Jesus can love strangers and foreigners, even his persecutors. Of course he has the courage to challenge the status quo. He is divine but I am only human.”
No where in scripture do we find warrant for making this distinction. We simply do not get to plead the theological equivalent of the fifth amendment. We are responsible to live and breath and fulfill our God given inheritance as sons and daughters of God. We are intended to wake up and grow into the divine humans we are meant to be, like Jesus.
It is no wonder we dance around answering Jesus question, “Who do you say that I am?” It has direct and significant consequences for who we say that we are.
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