Imagine a group of people somewhere downtown.  They are ordinary, everyday people.  Some of them are a little rough around the edges.  They’re not very urbane.  They’re gathered together in a coffee shop.  Not like a Starbucks, but maybe some sort of independent place or lesser-known franchise.  Nothing fancy.  This group of people is surrounded by symbols of where people find religion.  Places where people put their faith.  The Eaton’s Centre.  A symbol of faith in the acquisition of things.  The belief that we find deliverance in buying stuff.  Gleaming financial towers.  Reflections in the belief that the market will save us.  That the right economic system will be the cure to what ails society.  Scotiabank Arena and the Rogers Centre are nearby.  Modern cathedrals where the religious flock in their regalia.  Shrines to a glorious past (really for both Leafs and Jays), where thousands go to see a spectacle.  Queens Park is nearby, reflecting a belief held by some that the right government, the right governmental system or constitution of charter is the thing on which to pin all our beliefs.  These large buildings, edifices really, that tell of what is worthy of our worship.

In the middle of all this, the question is asked by the leader of this small group of people.  “Who do people say that I am?”  The answers come in.  A charismatic leader.  A wise teacher.  A great prophet.  Then comes the question that is our focus this morning. “And you, who do you say that I am?”  The question of our lives.  Is there a question more important?  One member of the group answers, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”  In other words, you are the one who we are putting all our hope on.  You are the one who is worthy of our worship.

Because this is really what we’re talking about when Jesus asks the question – “Who do you say that I am?”  To whom or to what do we look for deliverance/rescue/salvation/fundamental meaning, and purpose?  I don’t think there’s anything wrong with shopping at the Eaton’s Centre and have done so myself.  I have been to Jays and Leafs games and enjoyed myself.  I participate in our democracy by voting at least.  I believe in financial prudence and oversight.  The problem arises when we look to consumerism as our purpose in life.  The problem comes when financial considerations take precedence over every other consideration (like care and compassion, and mercy).  The problem comes when diversion becomes our goal in life, and we are living in order to figure out how to fund our next playcation or wherever it is that we find ourselves diverted.

So we come together again and again to proclaim Jesus as our King.  It’s easy to become diverted when we’re surrounded by symbols that would proclaim something else is King.  This is where Jesus and his followers found themselves in Caesarea Philippi.  Surrounded by symbols that proclaimed where one found deliverance.  It was a town on the southern slopes of Mount Hermon, close to the present-day border with Syria.  It was formerly called Pannia after Pan, the god of nature.  There was a large temple to Pan built into its red cliffs.  It had been renamed after Caesar by Phillip, one of Herod the Great’s sons.  Phillip put his own name in there, too, of course – Caesarea Phillipi – because people like to have things named after themselves.  The city also housed a temple to Caesar, the emperor who was worshipped as divine.  The one to whom everyone looked for salvation.  A giant white marble temple.  In the face of all this, we have this rather ragtag group of Galileans, and this rather remarkable answer given by Peter.

“You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God.”

It’s not entirely unexpected.  Jesus is called the Messiah in Matthew’s first chapter.  We heard not long ago the story of Jesus stilling a storm and the disciples worshipping him and saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”  Stole Peter’s thunder a little here.  This is not to take anything away from Peter’s role here or his recognition of Christ as the Messiah and Son of God.  Peter is assigned first place here - being named as the first to recognize Jesus as the chosen one.  Peter is named as Jesus talks about the rock on which his church would be built.  There has been much dispute among Christians about what exactly Jesus means here.  (Is Jesus talking about Peter himself when he says, “Upon this rock I will build my church,” or the truth that Peter is proclaiming along with Peter’s trust in that truth?)

What is indisputable, however, is that Matthew’s focus here is what comes after Peter’s confession.  The first question for us is, “Who do you say that I am?”  If we answer with Peter and say, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God”, then the question that follows is, “What kind of Messiah is this?”  What kind of God is this?

He’s the God who is victorious over death.  On this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not stand against it.  Whatever we think about papal succession, it is Christ who is our cornerstone.  The stumbling block which the builders rejected has become our cornerstone.  The church is built on the foundation of the apostles and the prophets.  This is how Paul describes it to the Ephesians.  We are living stones being built into this edifice that is the church.  This passage marks a turning point in Matthew. Jesus is now looking toward Jerusalem.  Jerusalem is where Jesus will enter the field of battle against death. - connected with and trusting in his Father.  The battle against sin and death, and separation from God, will be fought by Jesus on the cross.  We come back to the cross time and time again, and we will not cease from coming back to the cross.  The gates of hell – the place of separation from God – will not stand against Jesus.    It is on Christ’s victory that the church will be built and endure, knowing that nothing can separate us from God’s love.

The church will have a role in making this known.  To know Jesus as the Messiah and the Son of the living God means to be given a role and a purpose.  To know God and to make God known.  To know Jesus as the Messiah and the Son of the Living God means being enabled by God-with-us to live out that role in our words and actions and thoughts, and attitudes.  All that we are, in other words. “I will give you the keys of the kingdom,” Jesus tells Peter.   It’s why Peter is often depicted (usually in cartoons, it seems) as guarding the gates of Heaven.  This might be good for cartoons, but we take this seriously.  Keys are not just for barring entry, but for unlocking doors.  Peter will go on to unlock doors for thousands of people at Pentecost.  He’ll unlock the door for Cornelius.  At the Jerusalem council in Acts, he’ll unlock the door for Gentile converts.   We are called to unlock the door to the Kingdom of God in the same way, with our actions, with our words.  Decisions are going to be made by Peter and those in the early church.  Binding and losing.  Tying and untying.  In ancient rabbinic literature, binding/loosing signified decision-making.  Decisions will have to be made in the church.  Decisions are made on an ongoing basis in our lives.  They may come at us fast and furious.  We continue to make decisions and must always look to the question What does love call for here?  What does grace call for? What does mercy call for?  Remembering always and reminding one another always that we’re rooted and grounded in Christ and his unsearchable love for us.

So far, so good, right?  Then comes the surprise. The unexpected thing.  “From that time on.”  These words signal a change in Matthew’s Gospel.  “He began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised.”  This was not supposed to be part of the plan.  No one in 1st-century Judea was looking for a Messiah who would die.  The Messiah was supposed to be raising up an army, restoring the fortunes of Israel and overthrowing foreign rule.  Peter says, “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.”

Jesus’ response might seem harsh.  I don’t know that he said it harshly, though.  I think he said it with a lot of love.  We remember him asking Peter, “Why do you doubt, oh you of little faith,” while he was holding onto Peter in the middle of a storm.  Jesus turned like he was walking away.  Get behind me.  Jesus doesn’t say “Away with you…” as he said to the actual Satan.    Jesus tells Peter, “Get behind me.’  In other words, get behind me.  Follow me.  Follow me to where I’m going, even though it wasn’t what you were expecting.  Follow me and see how the Son of the Living God deals in sacrificial love.  Not fame.  Not spectacle.  Not masses of adoring crowds.  In shame rather.  The shame of the cross.  Bearing the shame of the world, our shame, there.  This is where this whole journey is headed to friends.  To the cross.  ‘’You are a stumbling block to me, for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”  In human terms, we measure success by numbers.  Chasing ratings, chasing clicks, chasing numbers.   In human terms, we want spectacle.  Spectacle is good, right?  Spectacle shows that something is worthwhile and important, right?

Consider what it means to live an important life.  I want to be living an important life.  Consider what life is in Christ.  What life is in the living/dying/risen/ascended/returning Christ?  We hold all those truths about Jesus together at once.  One thing the death of Christ tells us, friends, is that there is no suffering from which God is absent.  Christ says, “Get behind me, follow me to where I’m going.”  The disciples didn’t follow him to where he was going.  Sometimes we don’t follow Jesus toward suffering.  It’s sometimes hard to come alongside suffering.  There’s no spectacle.  It doesn’t make us famous or renowned to sit with someone who has just received a diagnosis.  Someone who has just lost someone. Someone who is facing so much uncertainty that they can hardly stand it.  We can be assured, though, that God is in that suffering, and that there is no suffering from which God cannot bring life.  Even death.  Christ showed that over Easter weekend.  We said last week that if the good news of Jesus is simply presented and lived as something that benefits us, our faith will be shallow.  Our roots will not be deep.  Our faith may not stand up to persecution or suffering.  The grace of God is no cheap grace.  “Love so amazing, so divine/ Demands my soul, my life, my all” goes the hymn.  We’re talking about giving our lives to Jesus.  Paul doesn’t call himself a slave to Christ for nothing.  All those things we think of as ours – my possessions, my days, my moments, my time – are yours, Lord.  Make my will yours, Lord.  Make everything I do a reflection of you. 

Jesus calls us to follow him in this way every day.  To take up our cross.  “Daily,” Luke adds.  To say “I’m behind you, Jesus” daily.  “Thank you that you are with me.”  To take up our cross.  To deny ourselves.  To lose our lives.  Who would do this?  It doesn’t mean to have a death wish or to efface ourselves.  We’re not talking about self-effacement or self-degradation or self-denigration or making ourselves doormats.  We’re children of the King after all.  We’re talking about claiming our identity as beloved children of God based on the life and death, and resurrection of Christ.  We’re talking about what might be the greatest Christian paradox of them all - losing our lives for Jesus’ sake, and in so doing, to find life.  Losing our lives for the sake of calling Jesus “Lord” and meaning it, and in so doing finding life.  For some Christians, this has meant actually losing their lives for Jesus’ sake.  What might it mean for us?  Dying to our need to control, to determine outcomes, to have things our own way, etc., more examples?

Why would this be something we want?  Because from this death comes life. Jesus will tell his followers three times what’s going to happen.  It’s interesting that nobody notes the resurrection part.  This is the second half of the equation, however.  Maybe it’s not so strange, though.  As one writer puts it, resurrection “had to be experienced to be believed.”   Once it’s experienced, though, look at what happens.  The question then becomes, are you experienced?  Have you experienced resurrection?  Are you experiencing new life in the risen Christ?  This is our invitation, and it is before us daily.  This is the invitation that Jesus extends when he says, “Get behind me.”  It is in dying with Christ and experiencing the power of the resurrected Christ that we find life!  Do you know what I’m talking about?  If you do share your stories.  How have you experienced new life?  How are you experiencing new life?  Open the doors to the Kingdom for others.  People of God have gathered all over the world to celebrate and proclaim these truths today.  Let us resolve to say with Peter every day, “To whom would we go?  You have the words of eternal life?”  Let us say with Peter, “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.”  Let us get behind the Messiah, the Christ, the son of the living God.  May this be true for us all.