[Pentecost+17] "Who do you say that I am?"

I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end.

-Revelation 22:13 (NRSV)

Molly preached about names for Jesus, particularly the "I am" statements Jesus used (as opposed to the names/titles other people gave to Jesus) -- and about the importance of names, of being known by others ... and about being in community, being known by your community, and being remade as we grow into ourselves.

In the sermon nugget that got posted to the First Church facebook, Molly said:

Where the friendly names put him on pedestal, all by himself, and where the unfriendly names tried to put him down with the low-down and no-good, every single title that Jesus gave himself was about connecting to others, about being or doing something for others. Shine a light on a path for the person in the dark. Call the lost one home. Bring us back from death, or things that feel like death. Yoke us, like clusters of grapes, to one another and to the earth.

Jesus seems to be saying: "The titles that matter are not the ones that lift us up or put us down. I am not going to let other people do either one of those things to me. I am going to define the hell out of myself."

Molly's list of "I am" titles that Jesus used is:

Light of the world
Bread of Life
Living Water
The Door
The Good Shepherd
The Resurrection and the Life
The Way
The Truth
The Life
The True Vine
The Son of Man
the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end

These are very poetic titles, but deeply embedded in metaphorical context. Does that embedded context make these titles feel resonant and meaningful for you? Perhaps you have grown up in the church and these titles are like your grandmother's quilts -- beautiful and comforting ... familiar ancient language you can wrap yourself up in. Or perhaps you haven't grown up in the church and they feel strange, like visiting someone's house, unsure where how to make sense of anything.

Following up Molly's theme of relationship, I wonder if the stories of some of those who were in relationship with the historical Jesus, the one walking the earth with skin on, can help us find our own way into the Jesus story.

Joseph, the father of Jesus

In Matthew's account, Joseph plans to divorce Mary quietly when he learns of her pregnancy, but an angel appears to him in a dream and tells him (among other things) that the child "will save his people from their sins" (1:21). Later, after the baby is born and the Magi leave, an angel appears to Joseph in a dream again and says, "Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him" (2:13) -- where they remain until the death of Herod.

The text is silent about whether Mary and Joseph knew that Herod "sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under" (2:16), but surely they would have heard about when they returned from Egypt if nothing else -- that kind of event isn't the kind of thing that disappears from people's memories.

Does Jesus feel like someone who entered your life uninvited, disrupted it, put you at risk? Does the call on your heart feel like one you'd rather turn away from?

Mary, the mother of Jesus

She was told many things about her young child -- in Luke's account, the angel Gabriel tells her that the power of the Holy Spirit will overshadow her and she will have a son who will be holy, who will be called the Son of God, who will be great, who will be called the Son of the Most High, to whom God will give the throne of David and who will reign over the house of Jacob forever (1:26-38, particularly 32-35).

When the shepherds arrive at the manger, they share what they had been told about this child -- that the angel proclaimed good news of great joy for all people, that a Savior, the Messiah, the Lord, was born, but for all those exalted titles would be found swaddled in a manger (2:8-20, particularly 10-12).

Mary "treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart" (2:19), but when Jesus was eight days old, they went to the Temple and Mary was given even more words to ponder. Simeon picked up the baby Jesus and praised God saying, "my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel" (2:30-32) but also told Mary, "This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too" (2:34-35).

What must it have been like to be given charge of someone destined for such greatness? Does the Lord language we use for Jesus serve to distance Jesus, making him feel like someone with so much power and authority as to be unapproachable?

Do the narrative memories of Jesus as a baby, of Jesus born into humble circumstances, of Jesus slipping away from his parents to dispute with the religious teachers (1:41-52), feel like a more accessible Jesus, a Jesus you could imagine befriending and following along the roads?

What about Simeon's prediction that "a sword will pierce your own soul too"? Have you fallen so in love with Jesus that Good Friday breaks your heart every year?

Simeon

We are told in Luke's gospel that Simeon was a righteous and devout man, looking forward to the consolation of Israel, and that the Holy Spirit rested on him and had revealed to him that he would not die before he had seen the Messiah (4:25-26).

Perhaps you have come to Christianity late in life. Perhaps you knew that somewhere you would find consolation and hope, and you have found it in Jesus.

Simeon -- whom the text gives us no indication knew Mary and Joseph at all -- picks up the baby Jesus and starts praising God.

Are you so on fire for Jesus that the usual rules of polite society don't mean anything?

Simon Peter

Jesus asks, "who do you say that I am?" and Simon Peter answers, "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God." Jesus says, "you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it" (Matthew 16:13-20, particularly 14-18).

The gates of Hades may not prevail against the church, but Peter himself seems less rock-solid. In the very next story, Jesus foretells his suffering, death, and resurrection, and Peter takes him aside and "rebukes" him, insisting that this must never happen. Jesus responds, "Get behind me, Satan!"

Peter may have known the correct answer to "who is Jesus?" but he doesn't seem to understand what kind of Messiah Jesus has come to be. Not only does he protest against Jesus' prophecies, but he also protests Jesus washing his feet -- and then pendulum-swings in the opposite direction (John 13:2-11, particularly 6-9) and, when Jesus is arrested, responds with the sword (John 18:10). And then, of course, after his emphatic protestations at the Last Supper that he would never betray Jesus, he (as Jesus had predicted) denies Jesus three times that very night.

While Jesus isn't always patient in his correction of Peter, he never rejects Peter altogether -- nor does he even revoke Peter's position as rock of his church. The resurrected Jesus asks Peter three times, "Do you love me?" and after each Yes says, "Feed [or take care of] my sheep [or my lambs]" (John 21:15-17).

We may not always understand who Jesus is, but we can care for each other.

That this fallible human being was the rock on whom Jesus built the Church ... does that comfort us? Does that alleviate some of our anxiety that we can't possibly do what Jesus is asking of us, that we can't possibly be good enough for Jesus?

Judas

Infamous for betraying Jesus, selling Jesus out to the Temple authorities who would have him killed for thirty pieces of silver (enough money to buy a field, perhaps as much as a half a year's wages -- how much money would it take for you to sell out someone you loved?).

The text doesn't tell us much about why Judas does this. Two of the Gospel accounts assert that Satan entered into him (Luke 22:3–6 and John 13:27). The musical Jesus Christ Superstar offers one interpretation. Does Judas know he's sending Jesus to death? Matthew's account states that Judas, seeing that Jesus was condemned, repents and gives back the money (27:3-4).

Do we think Jesus forgave Judas? Jesus clearly knew what was coming and made no effort to stop Judas -- in John's account, Jesus says, "What you are about to do, do quickly" (John 13:27).

Perhaps Judas is the one we feel the most kinship with -- one who betrayed Jesus and didn't have the chance to make it right. Perhaps we feel alienated, like we don't know how to find our way home. Perhaps we thought we had found salvation and hope in Jesus (in the Church? in Christianity?) and then it turned out to not be what we expected.

***

Do you find yourself in these stories? Or perhaps in other stories that you find yourself, like Lazarus whom Jesus raised from the dead (or perhaps you are one of Lazarus' sisters, Mary and Martha, and it is someone you thought you had lost whom Jesus restored to life), or others who were freed from illness or death, who were given a new identity, a new place in the world, through interaction with Jesus.

Are there perhaps other places you find ways to connect to Jesus, like hymns? "In The Garden" tells the story of Mary Magdalene with the risen Christ, but many people have found its narrative imagery resonant for their own walk with Jesus.

As always, you're invited to comment anonymously/pseudonymously if you prefer.