Divine Things
Scripture Reading: Mark 8:27-38
You may have heard that there is a presidential election coming up in a few weeks. That’s the rumor, anyway. Don’t worry, I’m not going to talk politics. Not exactly. However, even someone who has no interest in politics cannot escape the onslaught of political advertising that bombards us seemingly everywhere these days.
I’m sure that like mine, the mailbox in front of your house is filled each day with direct mailers (my recycle bin fills much faster than it used to). And if you watch ad-supported videos on YouTube as I do (I’m too cheap to pay for the ad-free version), you’ve likely seen ads from congregational candidates touting how they are of, by, and for the people and how their opponent is extreme, out of touch, and a threat to all that is pure and good in the world.
The signs that it’s election season are everywhere. I mean that literally, in that political yard signs have sprouted in front lawns like Japanese knotweed.
Somewhere in my travels—I can’t remember where exactly—I came across a red, white, and blue yard sign that read “Jesus 2024.” It made me think of the Woody Guthrie song “Christ for President.” This is a fairly obscure song. Actually, Woody Guthrie never even recorded it. It appeared on a tribute album of sorts that came out in the late 1990s. Guthrie’s daughter Nora found notebooks full of her father’s unpublished lyrics, and she enlisted the UK folk singer Billy Bragg and the American rock band Wilco to set them to music. The result was a three-volume record titled Mermaid Avenue.
“Christ for President,” as recorded by Wilco, is a jaunty tune with lyrics that express an unironic admiration for the social gospel of Jesus Christ. Here is a sampling:
Let’s have Christ our president
Let us have him for our king
Cast your vote for the carpenter
that they call the Nazarene
The only way
we could ever beat
these crooked politician men
is to cast the money changers
out of the temple
and put the carpenter in
Oh, it’s Jesus Christ our president
God above our king
With a job and pension for young and old
we will make Hallelujah ring
Although the lyrics of “Christ for President” were written in the 20th century, they pretty much sum up the attitude of many Jews of Jesus’ day who bristled under Roman occupation. The land that had once been the Kingdom of Israel ruled by a Jewish king was now just one province among many in the vast Roman Empire that stretched from one end of the Mediterranean to the other. The seat of power lay not in Jerusalem but in Rome.
Among more religiously observant Jews, who were less likely to adopt Roman ways, expectations were high that a Messiah (literally “anointed one”) would lead the people to rise up against the Romans and restore the kingdom and “make Hallelujah ring.”
That is the political backdrop for today’s passage from Mark. When Jesus asks the disciples, “Who do you say that I am?” and Peter answers by saying, “You are the Messiah,” Peter has in mind not a suffering servant but a conquering king. This misunderstanding of the nature of what it means for Jesus to be the Messiah is the primary source of tension between Jesus and the disciples. It’s something that they won’t fully understand until after he is crucified and raised from the dead.
In last week’s reading from Mark 7, Jesus led the disciples into different Gentile lands, first to Tyre in the north and then east to the Decapolis. In today’s reading he takes them to the border region of Caesarea Philippi. Caesarea Philippi was an outpost at the extreme northern tip of ancient Israel, what today would be the Golan Heights, control of which remains in dispute between Israel and Syria.
The name “Caesarea Philippi” suggests the mixing of two cultures—“Caesarea” for the Roman emperor Caesar Augustus, and “Philippi” for Philip, the son of Herod the Great. In addition to a statue of the emperor, Caesarea Philippi also featured a temple to Pan, the pagan god of forests and flocks whose sudden appearance was said to incite fear or panic.
I share all this background not only because it’s interesting but so that you get a feel for the stakes. “Caesarea Philippi”—the name itself symbolizes authority—that of Rome and Rome’s chosen Jewish governor. The place was also the site of pagan worship. And it’s here—in this site that blends politics and religion—that Jesus brings his disciples and asks them the question, “Who do people say that I am?”
They answer, “Some say John the Baptist; others Elijah; and still others that you’re one of the prophets.” It’s a an honest answer. Herod himself, who had John the Baptist executed, thought that Jesus was John raised from the dead. Also, the miracles that Jesus performed made many people think of Elijah, while his message of mercy for the poor and his warnings against the hypocrisy of the religious leaders were in keeping with the words of the prophets of old.
Such was the opinion of the masses. But Jesus then makes the question personal for the disciples, asking, “But who do you say that I am?” The opinion of the crowds is one thing, but the twelve know him more intimately. They haven’t merely been observers, they’re his disciples. Each one was specifically chosen by Jesus himself. Who do they think he is?
Peter, ever the boldest among them, answers clearly and unequivocally, “You are the Messiah.” Jesus doesn’t praise Peter for his insight but rather sternly orders the disciples to keep this revelation secret.
But why? You mean Jesus has miraculously healed the sick, fed the masses, opened blind eyes and deaf ears, and he doesn’t want it to be known that he is the Messiah? Why on earth not? This is the moment we’ve been waiting for. It should be shouted from the rooftops!
That’s likely what the disciples are thinking. The coming of the Messiah is good news for Israel. Spread the word! Gather the people! Organize! Mobilize!
But Jesus has other ideas. He’s not coming as a conquering king but as a suffering servant. He’s not going to Jerusalem to be crowned but to be killed. He’s not going to slay his enemies, he intends to die for them. And the religious establishment won’t rejoice over him, they will reject him.
As a member of the religious establishment myself, that last part gives me pause. We look to our religious leaders for spiritual insight. After all, they’ve studied the Scriptures, they’ve received training, they’ve passed their ordination exams. They of all people should recognize the Messiah when he comes. And yet Jesus says that the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes will all reject him.
Let’s bring this into our own context. There’s a presbytery meeting next week. Imagine Jesus speaking before the presbytery and causing most every pastor and elder there to walk out in protest or to harangue him afterward during lunch. “What are you talking about, Jesus? Clearly you are mistaken.”
Imagine them rejecting his message and his ministry entirely. That seems impossible to us. After all, they’re the religious leaders! They’re the ones who know about these things! So just imagine Peter trying to wrap his mind around Jesus’ telling him that what awaits him as Messiah is not gratitude and glory but suffering, rejection, and death.
Suffering, rejection, and death. These are what the Son of God will subject himself to. These are divine things.
To Peter, this is insane talk. Peter is so aghast that he pulls Jesus aside and rebukes him! Mark doesn’t share with us Peter’s words, but in the Gospel of Matthew Peter says, “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you” (Matt. 16:22).
This just might be Peter’s boldest act, bolder even than stepping out of the boat on to the water and walking toward Jesus. Imagine telling the Son of God that he’s got God’s plan of salvation all wrong! The chutzpah!
There is a kind of humor in the situation, but Jesus’ response could not be more serious. “Get behind me, Satan!” he says to his lead disciple, the first one he had called to follow him. As Jesus says this, he turns away from Peter to face the other disciples. That is, he acts out the very thing he’s saying, placing Peter behind him.
But “Get behind me, Satan? That seems strong, doesn’t it? Maybe even an overreaction on Jesus’ part to Peter’s ignorance of God’s plan. But it’s not. Peter is, in effect, echoing the words of the serpent in the Garden of Eden. “Did God say, ‘You shall not eat from any tree in the garden?’” Did God say the Messiah must undergo suffering, rejection, and death? Surely not! Jesus, you’ve got this all wrong. Come on, we’re counting on you!
“Get behind me, Satan. For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.” Let’s think about what that means. What are human things? What are divine things?
Peter and all of the disciples believe that Jesus is leading them to Jerusalem toward a triumphant reception and a glorious coronation. Even after Jesus’ rebuke of Peter, the brothers James and John will take Jesus aside and ask to be allowed to sit at his left and right hand when he comes in glory. You see, power, popularity, success…all the things that we preoccupy ourselves with obtaining or fret over for lacking…these are human things.
Suffering, rejection, and death. These are what the Son of God will subject himself to. These are divine things. To become acquainted with suffering, rejection, and death is to know God.
Do you want to know who God is? Do you want to know what God is like? Look to the cross. “If any wish to come after me,” Jesus says, “let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” In the entire Gospel of Mark, this is the first and only time that Jesus mentions the cross.
Among some Christians, Jesus’ command to take up our cross has been interpreted as a word of challenge, like a personal trainer urging a client to do one more rep, getting in their face and shouting, “No pain, no gain!” It’s seen as call to a more disciplined life of prayer, fasting, and reading the Bible, a kind of spiritual personal-training plan. After all, “disciple” and “discipline” are almost the same word.
But God doesn’t send us crosses to make us stronger. On the contrary, the crosses that we bear reveal our weakness, for that is how and where God works…through weakness. Think of whatever makes you feel weak and powerless. That is where God is at work in your life.
And in the ancient world, there was no greater sign of weakness—no one more utterly powerless—than the person whose hands and feet were nailed to a Roman cross. From a human perspective, the cross suggests abject weakness. But from a divine perspective, the cross reveals God’s power to save. “For he was crucified in weakness, but lives by the power of God” Paul writes (2 Cor. 13:4). To take up our cross, then, is to admit that we are utterly powerless to save ourselves and open ourselves to the saving power of God.