The quest for Jesus

 

A Sermon preached on Sunday 15 September (Pentecost XVII) at St. Augustine’s, Wiesbaden

Isaiah 50:4-9a, James 3:1-12, Mark 8:27-38

“Who do people say that I am?” Jesus asks, in today’s Gospel (Mark 8:27). This is a question that believers and non-believers have continued to ask, most famously in the so-called “quest for the historical Jesus,” to use the description Albert Schweitzer gave it in his book of the same name. This was a scholarly movement that began in the late 18^th century. We now distinguish three different quests for the historical Jesus continuing right up to the present day. The first two were dominated by German theologians, the latter was and is global and also tries to put Jesus into his Palestinian and Jewish context.

Often the authors’ research result was influenced by their own aim and vision, some wanted to praise Christianity, others to attack it. One of the earliest notable publications was by Hermann Reimarus, who portrayed Jesus simply as a less than successful political figure. Others saw him simply as a social and religious reformer. Later authors even went to far as to the existence of a historical Jesus. In his book, Albert Schweitzer denounced the subjectivity of the various writers for having injected their own preferences in Jesus's character. And later the German theologian Rudolf Bultmann questioned the relevance and necessity of historical Jesus research. All that we need to know is that Jesus existed, preached and died by crucifixion, not what happened throughout his life, he argued.

For Jesus the question of his identity, of how his followers understood and understand him and his mission was crucial. And so, he asks first, “Who do people say that I am?” The answers (John the Baptist, Elijah, one of the prophets) echo what Herod had thought and heard when Jesus first came to his attention after John’s beheading. (Mark 6:14-16) And then Jesus asks “But who do you say that I am?” “You are the Messiah,” (8:29) Peter answers … and wouldn’t it have been better for him if the story stopped here!

But no, when Jesus goes on to teach them what being the Messiah means, Peter puts his foot firmly in his mouth and rebukes Jesus! Just like the various authors of the quests for the historical Jesus, Peter has his own idea of who Jesus is and just like them he wants to impose it on Jesus. He expects a king and a warrior, one who will drive out the Romans, restore Israel to its rightful place at the head of the nations, and usher in a reign of peace and goodness. And his experience so far, with Jesus as a powerful figure, able to heal all ailments, with authority over nature, and sent by God to announce and enact the kingdom have not put this somewhat nationalistic and triumphant view into question.

That is why he is so shocked when Jesus teaches them that the culmination of his mission is suffering, death, and resurrection. To be honest, I don’t think Peter even heard the resurrection bit, he just went straight into his attack! It’s just not what he wanted to hear. Although, as today’s passage from Isaiah shows, the third of what we call the servant songs, Jewish scripture also knew the idea of God’s servant as having to suffer, whose mission would meet increasing and ever more violent and deadly opposition, before that servant is finally vindicated.

We still do this today of course, we still try to impose our views of Jesus on him, to remake him in our image, to make the word Messiah mean whatever we want it to mean.. The modern equivalent of the vengeful, warrior-like, nationalistic Messiah is the Jesus of Christian Nationalism, that suspiciously white, European Jesus. This is neither the historical nor scriptural! But identifying Jesus only as a good moral teacher, with establishing social justice as our religion’s main or sole purpose is equally wrong, though considerably less dangerous.

Another reason why we try and impose our own ideas is because we are afraid of the consequences of HIS idea, the content of Jesus’ call: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.” (Mark 8:35) Jesus’ contemporaries knew what it meant to take up the cross – they would have to be ready to be regarded as criminals and to die. As the Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote in the book “The Cost of Discipleship”: “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.”

Bonhoeffer’s fate was to die as a martyr, in the Flossenbürg concentration camp, as have many other faithful followers of Jesus before and after him. But to die, to lose our life for Jesus’ sake also means saying no to self, and yes to Jesus the Messiah. Not that we find that easy either. But having lost one life, we are free to begin another. And if we truly believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Christ, sent by God to restore our relationship with God and with one another, then we must also accept that we are called to live a different life, in Paul’s words from his letter to the Galatians: “it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” (Gal. 2:20)

The question, “who do you say that I am” is so very important. We will only be willing to give up our lives – literally or metaphorically – if we trust and believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the “Son of the living God,” as Matthew (16:16) has Peter call him or the “Holy One of God” as John (6:69) reports in his Gospel. Only then does the Cross make sense, testifying to God’s willingness to show us another way of living, despite the cost, and to his power over life and death. Jesus suffers, dies and is raised for us. The cross testifies that through Jesus’ death, God destroys the power of death, freeing us to live a life worth living now, and promising that we will share in the eternal life of God.

“Who do you say that I am?” We have one more answer to that question: the ancient words, nearly 1700 years old, of the Nicene Creed. And in just a moment we will recite them, as we do almost every week, in communion with Christians across time and space, as words of power and reassurance.

Amen.