The Ven. Richard I Cluett
Matthew 16:13-2
Two weeks ago I stood here discussing the passage where Jesus said to Peter, “You of little faith”, focusing on the seemingly puny nature of his faith, at least in that moment of water walking. Today we have Peter’s shining moment when he proclaims the true identity of this Jesus of Nazareth. “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”
Of course, if we read the story all the way through we know that Peter didn’t really have a clue what that identity would mean for Jesus, or for the disciples, or for the world. Next week he will get it wrong again, and Jesus will say to him, “Get behind me, Satan.”
So perhaps it would be good to note that Peter is not the point here. It would be useful to remember, I think, that old definition of what a saint seen in a stained glass window is. “A saint is someone the sun/the Son shines through.” And Peter was a capital S Saint.
It is also a pretty good description of what a disciple is, whether she be an ordinary day-to-day disciple or a capital D Disciple such as Peter. A disciple is someone Jesus, the Son, shines through. Maybe that’s the point here. What can we see of Jesus, what can we learn of Jesus in this person named Peter, or for that matter in the one named Alice or Bob or Sally or Fred or Rick, or…You?
Jesus asked, “Who do they say that I am.” Of course, “I am” is one of the names of God. So how many names can you come up with for Jesus; the ways people over the centuries have identified him. In scripture alone there are more than 100 names. If you are so moved, you can Google or Wiki “names for Jesus” and come up with a wagonload filled to overflowing. I could use today’s sermon time, and more, simply by reciting the names that come easily to mind.
Names such as Emmanuel, the Good Shepherd, the Great High Priest, the Anointed one, the Messiah, the Beloved, the Lamb, the Bridegroom and on and on and on. Not to worry, I am stopping.
Then Jesus asks Peter, the big one. “Who do you say that I am?”
We have been hearing all week about the great “Spectacle at Saddleback Church”, wherein Pastor Rick Warren examined the faith of the two presidential nominees, John McCain and Barack Obama. He sat them down one at a time on the stage of the church, in front of a couple thousand evangelical Christians, and some millions more watched on television. And he asked them direct questions about their faith in Jesus and how it affects their lives and how it will affect their presidency and the policies they work to put in place. The core question from which all other questions flowed was, “Who is Jesus Christ for you?”
The media pundits have parsed each word and examined each phrase. Conservatives have used their litmus tests, the liberals theirs, and the libertarians, too. I would expect that Muslims and Jews listened carefully as well, even though their names for God, Allah and Jehovah, never did come up.
Others have debated whether the questions put to the nominees for President of the United States of America were more important than the questions about leading the nation and their ideas and plans to work on problems of economy, justice, and world peace.
But for us, for you and me, regular day-to-day disciples of Jesus, the core question Jesus asked of Peter “Who do you say that I am?” is also our core question. “Who do you say Jesus is?”
What do you say to that? Can you answer that without having to resort to formulaic phrases, or if you do use them, can you explain what you mean by them? Who is Jesus for you? Really.
By virtue of being a disciple you are also a saint, one of the saints of God, someone the light is to shine through. (Light is another name for Jesus, “He is the light of the world.”) By looking at you what do we see of Jesus? By listening to you, what do we learn of Jesus?
Now, there we have it. There’s the rub. It’s come down to this, today. Can you tell us who Jesus is for you, not what others have said, but rather who he is for you? What can you say Jesus means to you? What difference is that faith making in your life? Specifically. Practically. In your real life, your day-to-day life, your behavior, your attitudes, your way of looking at things, at the world, what you do and how you do it. What can you say of Jesus? What can we see of Jesus… in you?
To whom do you testify, to what do you testify? What can Jesus build on your faith, on your life? Are you a rock? Or have you built your house on shifting sand. Wow! It’s starting to get personal, isn’t it? So much for bible stories of long, long ago. What faith story is being written by your faith in Jesus Christ?
That’s a bit daunting, isn’t it? Maybe it is too big for this relaxed time provided by the dog days of August, the last days of a summer’s respite. A bit too serious for this season of books on the beach, or hikes in the woods, or little round white balls on the golf course. Maybe we can come back to this in the fall, after vacation is over, when the kids are back in school? Maybe we can tell Jesus, “I’ll have to get back to you on that.”
Or not. Actually, it’s true that there is no time like the present, no moment better than the now.
Do you remember that parable in Matthew 25 about the ten bridesmaids waiting for the bridegroom (one of the ways of knowing Jesus), about being ready for him when he comes, having their lamps at the ready, oil filled, wicks trimmed, ready to be lighted at a moments notice? When he came, some were not ready and lost out.
“And while they went to buy (the oil), the bridegroom came, and those who were ready went with him into the wedding banquet; and the door was shut… Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.” Matt 25:10, 13
Or in Luke 12:19-20 where the rich man says, “And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.” But God said to him, “You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?” Some translations read, “… your soul is required of you.”
You get the point. The scripture brings us, today, this very day, to this question, “Who do you say Jesus is – for you?”
And how will you answer?
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Pentecost 13/Proper 14A
The Ven. Richard I. Cluett
August 10, 2008
1Kings 19:9-18 + Matthew 14:22-33
“You of little faith, why did you doubt?” Why, indeed.
All the evidence to the contrary – Jesus was right there on the water, and Peter doubted. That one little niggling doubt crept in and he was a goner – in the drink, floundering around, flailing away, and crying out in fear. Wanting to believe, trying to believe, believing that he did believe, still down he went. Dunked by doubt.
Anyone here identify with that sinking feeling Peter had? How many times has it happened to you? Why do you doubt? As the old song goes, “I don’t know why, I just do.”
You’re just sailing along in your life, secure in the faith that all is well, that all will be well, that whatever happens, even if there is a problem, it can be managed, it will be handled, you can take care of it.
But who are you fooling? Do you really know yourself to be that take charge guy, that supremely competent gal, that “come hell or high water” I-can-do-it person? Sure you are!
Or do you, deep down, have that cold, hard knot, or maybe for you it is instead a swirling, chaotic stomach churning mass, whichever it is, that area of doubt or fear that’s always there, waiting to creep in, right at the wrong moment, and there you go, down! Just like Peter. Dunked by Doubt.
Miracles are mysteries. We can profitably set our nets a little deeper to see what can be caught here. Let’s come at this story another way – through belief instead of doubt.
What do you mean when you say, “I believe…”? Are you saying that you believe and therefore your life will conform to that belief, and be guided by that belief, and that events will progress according to that belief, and all will be right with your world?
Or are you saying that you agree with or assent to a certain set of principles as in “I agree with Dr. Einstein that e=mc2”? And that life will follow along logically and orderly and well, based on that belief?
Or are you saying along with author Diane Eck that by saying “I believe…” you are saying, “I give my heart. I give my heart to God. I give my heart to this my beloved. I give my heart to Jesus. And because I give my heart to Jesus, I will do my best to live his way.”
Following Jesus gives us the best chance to live a life of meaning and purpose, and to be on the receiving end of mercy, forgiveness, grace, companionship, support and love. The more we follow him, the more we invest our heart, the more we are in his company, the more we walk in his way, the more we will experience the fruits of faith, and be able to trust the one to whom we give our heart.
Trust follows experience. When in your life have you experienced that grace, that mercy, that forgiveness? Would you have known those things had you not been seeking Jesus, enjoying his company, and being in communion with him and with his community?
Does faith, does belief, does trust guarantee success? Not hardly.
Many of you know that Tony and I do some conference work in an organization concerned with the well-being of people who work in the church. The name of the program is Credo, the Latin word that beings the creed, meaning “I believe”. What we do in that program is provide some resources and models so participants can get back in touch with what they meant when they give their heart to God and committed their lives to helping build the kingdom and care for God’s people. The clergy and professional church workers are living proof that it is possible to lose from time to time what we desire and prize so highly. And also possible to find it again.
If it can happen to Peter it can happen to you. If it can happen to Elijah the greatest of the prophets it can happen to you. What do you think Elijah was doing in that cave other than having a dark day of doubt, thinking for a brief moment that maybe Baal might indeed be the stronger god.
Let’s take the heart image a little further. A function of the heart is to move the flow of blood, the power of being, up to our head and down to our feet and out to our hands and fingers.
Faith and trust also have to do with movement. They come from that act of giving our heart to another, and that movement that leads to another and another and another and faith is thereby strengthened and trust is thereby built and life is can be lived in a way that gives life and makes us willing from time to time to risk.
That trust, that willingness to risk stepping outside the boat, to move closer to the one to whom he has given his heart is how I think of faith. And Peter has that.
So why does Jesus address him as "you of little faith"? Peter has a little faith. Like you and me. I’ve got a little, sometimes it is not enough, but most times it is what my father called an “elegant sufficiency”. Most of the time it is enough, sufficient for the day, even if every now and then, it wavers, it shrinks, it flounders, it flails, even to the point of sinking. Most days it moves me along in his way, sometimes it moves me outside my little zone of comfort, moves me to risk on behalf of God, God’s kingdom, and Jesus’ followers who he also calls people of “little faith.”
So how much faith do you need to make a difference in your life, or even to change the world? Just a little. You don't have to talk yourself into absolute confidence that anything in particular will happen. That's a good thing, since none of us really knows the future, or the heart of another person, much less the heart of God. Faith isn't about knowing that, faith is about knowing our own heart.
Faith is willingness to risk. It's willingness to take that step out of the boat, whether you think you'll sink or swim. It proceeds from the kind of love that, despite all of the butterflies in one's stomach, makes a person willing to say “I believe.”
The good news of today’s gospel is that even when the seas rise so high we are in danger of sinking, Jesus is there coming toward us, saying, “it’s me; don’t be afraid”. Jesus is there in that place, in that moment to calm, to quiet, to strengthen, to restore, to save. And that is a first-class miracle.
August 10, 2008
1Kings 19:9-18 + Matthew 14:22-33
“You of little faith, why did you doubt?” Why, indeed.
All the evidence to the contrary – Jesus was right there on the water, and Peter doubted. That one little niggling doubt crept in and he was a goner – in the drink, floundering around, flailing away, and crying out in fear. Wanting to believe, trying to believe, believing that he did believe, still down he went. Dunked by doubt.
Anyone here identify with that sinking feeling Peter had? How many times has it happened to you? Why do you doubt? As the old song goes, “I don’t know why, I just do.”
You’re just sailing along in your life, secure in the faith that all is well, that all will be well, that whatever happens, even if there is a problem, it can be managed, it will be handled, you can take care of it.
But who are you fooling? Do you really know yourself to be that take charge guy, that supremely competent gal, that “come hell or high water” I-can-do-it person? Sure you are!
Or do you, deep down, have that cold, hard knot, or maybe for you it is instead a swirling, chaotic stomach churning mass, whichever it is, that area of doubt or fear that’s always there, waiting to creep in, right at the wrong moment, and there you go, down! Just like Peter. Dunked by Doubt.
Miracles are mysteries. We can profitably set our nets a little deeper to see what can be caught here. Let’s come at this story another way – through belief instead of doubt.
What do you mean when you say, “I believe…”? Are you saying that you believe and therefore your life will conform to that belief, and be guided by that belief, and that events will progress according to that belief, and all will be right with your world?
Or are you saying that you agree with or assent to a certain set of principles as in “I agree with Dr. Einstein that e=mc2”? And that life will follow along logically and orderly and well, based on that belief?
Or are you saying along with author Diane Eck that by saying “I believe…” you are saying, “I give my heart. I give my heart to God. I give my heart to this my beloved. I give my heart to Jesus. And because I give my heart to Jesus, I will do my best to live his way.”
Following Jesus gives us the best chance to live a life of meaning and purpose, and to be on the receiving end of mercy, forgiveness, grace, companionship, support and love. The more we follow him, the more we invest our heart, the more we are in his company, the more we walk in his way, the more we will experience the fruits of faith, and be able to trust the one to whom we give our heart.
Trust follows experience. When in your life have you experienced that grace, that mercy, that forgiveness? Would you have known those things had you not been seeking Jesus, enjoying his company, and being in communion with him and with his community?
Does faith, does belief, does trust guarantee success? Not hardly.
Many of you know that Tony and I do some conference work in an organization concerned with the well-being of people who work in the church. The name of the program is Credo, the Latin word that beings the creed, meaning “I believe”. What we do in that program is provide some resources and models so participants can get back in touch with what they meant when they give their heart to God and committed their lives to helping build the kingdom and care for God’s people. The clergy and professional church workers are living proof that it is possible to lose from time to time what we desire and prize so highly. And also possible to find it again.
If it can happen to Peter it can happen to you. If it can happen to Elijah the greatest of the prophets it can happen to you. What do you think Elijah was doing in that cave other than having a dark day of doubt, thinking for a brief moment that maybe Baal might indeed be the stronger god.
Let’s take the heart image a little further. A function of the heart is to move the flow of blood, the power of being, up to our head and down to our feet and out to our hands and fingers.
Faith and trust also have to do with movement. They come from that act of giving our heart to another, and that movement that leads to another and another and another and faith is thereby strengthened and trust is thereby built and life is can be lived in a way that gives life and makes us willing from time to time to risk.
That trust, that willingness to risk stepping outside the boat, to move closer to the one to whom he has given his heart is how I think of faith. And Peter has that.
So why does Jesus address him as "you of little faith"? Peter has a little faith. Like you and me. I’ve got a little, sometimes it is not enough, but most times it is what my father called an “elegant sufficiency”. Most of the time it is enough, sufficient for the day, even if every now and then, it wavers, it shrinks, it flounders, it flails, even to the point of sinking. Most days it moves me along in his way, sometimes it moves me outside my little zone of comfort, moves me to risk on behalf of God, God’s kingdom, and Jesus’ followers who he also calls people of “little faith.”
So how much faith do you need to make a difference in your life, or even to change the world? Just a little. You don't have to talk yourself into absolute confidence that anything in particular will happen. That's a good thing, since none of us really knows the future, or the heart of another person, much less the heart of God. Faith isn't about knowing that, faith is about knowing our own heart.
Faith is willingness to risk. It's willingness to take that step out of the boat, whether you think you'll sink or swim. It proceeds from the kind of love that, despite all of the butterflies in one's stomach, makes a person willing to say “I believe.”
The good news of today’s gospel is that even when the seas rise so high we are in danger of sinking, Jesus is there coming toward us, saying, “it’s me; don’t be afraid”. Jesus is there in that place, in that moment to calm, to quiet, to strengthen, to restore, to save. And that is a first-class miracle.
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