Lectionary 21A (Decimotercero domingo después de Pentecostés)

Mateo 16:13-20

I preached this sermon in the Spanish service; the English translation is below. 

Oremos…

Que las palabras de mi boca y las meditaciones de nuestro corazón sean gratas a tus ojos, Señor, nuestra fortaleza y nuestro redentor. Amén.

Me gusta la pregunta que hace Jesús. Pregunta a sus discípulos: "¿Quién dicen los hombres que es el Hijo del Hombre?" Y luego pregunta: “Y vosotros ¿Quién decís que soy yo?”

Has oído esta historia. Mateo, Marcos y Lucas lo incluyen en sus evangelios.

Simón Pedro –el mismo hombre que vimos hundirse en el agua, el mismo que sabemos que negará a Jesús tres veces en su arresto– confiesa que Jesús es el Mesías, el ungido.

Escuchando a Pedro, me pregunto cómo responderíamos a Jesús. Creo que es una pregunta devocional interesante, que podemos plantearnos durante momentos de meditación y reflexión.

Pero también creo que la pregunta es una distracción.

Porque, como señaló irónicamente un colega, no importaba si Pedro respondía bien o no. Nuestra opinión no cambia quién es Jesús. La identidad de Jesús se encuentra en quién Dios dice que es.

En el evangelio de Mateo, Jesús responde a la confesión de Simón Pedro, alabándolo y diciéndole que él será la roca sobre la cual se edificará la iglesia.

Pero Lucas y Marcos sólo registran la severa advertencia y el mandato de Jesús a los discípulos de no contarle a nadie acerca de él.

Nunca aprendemos por qué Jesús alentó en ocasiones la discreción o incluso el secreto por parte de sus seguidores. Cuando cura al leproso (Mateo 8, Marcos 1, Lucas 5) les dice que no se lo diga a nadie excepto al sacerdote. Y nuevamente, después del evento de la transfiguración (Mateo 17, Marcos 9, Lucas 9), advierte a sus discípulos que no le hablen a nadie sobre el Mesías.

Los acontecimientos del evangelio de hoy tuvieron lugar en Cesárea de Filipo, una ciudad grecorromana donde había un santuario dedicado a Pan, que era el dios griego de los pastores y los rebaños. Me imagino las escenas de algunas de las películas ambientadas en el mundo antiguo y puedo imaginar el ruido y el caos de la escena.

Entonces, tal vez Jesús no quería provocar a los líderes religiosos o políticos todavía, o tal vez sabía la violencia que enfrentarían más tarde y estaba tratando de proteger a sus seguidores hasta que estuvieran mejor equipados para liderar a otros y enfrentar la oposición.

En cualquier caso, la confesión de Pedro es un punto muy importante. De ahora en adelante Jesús será más directo en sus explicaciones del sufrimiento y la muerte que le espera como Mesías.

Por hoy, creo que lo que importa es nuestra comprensión de lo que significa decir en voz alta que Jesús es el Mesías, el Hijo de Dios.

Jesús no sólo fue un buen rabino o maestro.

No fue uno de los profetas antiguos, como Elías o Jeremías, que confrontaron al pueblo con su infidelidad.

Y no fue Juan el Bautista quien llamó al pueblo al arrepentimiento.

Cuando proclamamos a Jesús como el Mesías, el ungido, proclamamos que él es el enviado de Dios para nuestro bien.

Cuando llamamos a Jesús Mesías, lo nombramos como quien revela el amor de Dios por todos nosotros.

Y, cuando llamamos a Jesús Mesías, también estamos nombrando nuestra dependencia de él, para la salvación y para la vida.

Y si eso es lo que significa llamar a Jesús Mesías, también significa que no estamos buscando esas cosas en alguien o en algo más. Significa que no escuchamos cuando voces en competencia intentan captar nuestra atención y lealtad, y los poderes de nuestro mundo intentan decirnos que no necesitamos a Jesús ni la fe.

Hace unos años participé en un grupo de personas que pasaban tiempo juntas en oración y silencio. y una de mis prácticas favorita era que nos pedian que dejáramos nuestros títulos en la puerta. En ese espacio no importaba saber quién era pastor, maestro, músico o quién tenía un doctorado. Fue un recordatorio regular de que nuestra identidad no se encuentra en nuestros logros, nuestro trabajo o incluso nuestras familias. Nuestra identidad proviene de lo que Dios dice que somos: hijos amados, amados y perdonados.

Gracias a Dios.

Matthew 16:13-20

I like the question Jesus asks. He asks his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” And then he asks, “Who do you say that I am?”

You have heard this story. Matthew, Mark and Luke, all include it in their gospels.

Simon Peter – the same man who we watched sink into the water, the same one who we know will deny Jesus three times at his arrest – confesses Jesus is the Messiah, the anointed one. 

Listening to Peter, I wonder how we would answer Jesus. I think it’s an interesting devotional question, one we can ask ourselves during times of meditation and reflection.

But I also think that the question is a distraction.

Because as one colleague wryly noted, it didn’t matter whether Peter answered well or not. Our opinion doesn’t change who Jesus is. Jesus’ identity is found in who God says he is.

In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus responds to Simon Peter’s confession, praising him and telling him that he will be the rock on which the church will be built. 

But Luke and Mark only record Jesus’ stern warning and command to the disciples not to tell anyone about him.

We never learn why Jesus encouraged discretion or even secrecy from his followers at times. When he heals the leper (Matt. 8, Mark 1, Luke 5) he tells him not to tell anyone except the priest. And again, after the event of the transfiguration (Matt. 17, Mark 9, Luke 9), he warns his disciples not to tell anyone about the Messiah.

The events of today’s gospel took place in Caesarea Philippi, a Greco-Roman city where there was a shrine dedicated to Pan who was the Greek god of the shepherds and flocks.  I imagine the scenes from some of the movies that have been set in the ancient world and can picture the noise and chaos of the scene.

So perhaps Jesus didn’t want to provoke the religious or political leaders just yet, or perhaps he knew the violence they would face later and he was trying to protect his followers until they were better equipped to lead others and face opposition.

In any case, Peter’s confession is a turning point. From now on Jesus will become more direct in his explanations of the suffering and death that awaits him as the Messiah.

For today, I think what matters is our understanding of what it means to say aloud that Jesus is Messiah, Son of God.

Jesus was not only a good rabbi or teacher.

He was not one of the ancient prophets, like Elijah or Jeremiah, who confronted the people with their faithlessness.

And he was not John the Baptist, who called people to repentance.

When we proclaim Jesus as Messiah, the anointed one, we proclaim he is the One sent by God for our sake.

When we call Jesus Messiah, we are naming Him as the one who reveals God’s love for us all.

And, when we call Jesus Messiah, we are also naming our dependence upon him, for salvation and for life.

And if that is what it means to call Jesus Messiah, it also means we are not looking for those things in someone or something else. It means we don’t listen when competing voices try to capture our attention and loyalty, and powers in our world try to tell us we don’t need Jesus or faith.

A few years ago I participated in a group of folks who spent time together in centering prayer and silence. And one of my favorite practices was that we were asked to leave our titles at the door. In that space, it wasn’t important to know who was a pastor, a teacher, a musician, or who had a doctoral degree. It was a regular reminder that our identity is not found in our achievements, our work, or even our families. Our identity comes from who God says we are – beloved children, loved and forgiven.

Thanks be to God.

Lectionary 20A

Matthew 15:21-28

Listening to Jesus’ encounter with the Canaanite woman, I wonder what Jesus means when he says, “Woman, great is your faith!” (15:28)
 
In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus talks a lot about the measure of faith.
 
Addressing the disciples, he tells the parable of the mustard seed (13:31) and later he says, “…if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you." (17:20)
 
But he also scolds the disciples for having “little faith” when they are afraid of the storm that swamps their boat (8:26);
he accuses Peter of having little faith when he tests Jesus on the water (14:31); and,
he faults the disciples for having “little faith” when they don’t’ understand his teaching. (16:8)
 
Jesus shows more compassion to others though.
 
When the Roman centurion came to Jesus and asked for him to heal his servant, Jesus said with amazement that he knew no one in Israel with such faith as the soldier demonstrated. (8:10)
 
In his hometown when friends brought a paralyzed man to Jesus to be healed, Matthew says, “When [Jesus] saw their faith”, the man was healed. (9:2)
When a hemorrhaging woman reached out to Jesus and touched the hem of his cloak, Jesus said to her, “your faith has made you well.” (9:22)
 
So, is the measure of faith what matters to Jesus?
Or is it something else?
 
I think the moments where Jesus criticizes his followers for having “little faith” are situations when we forget who Jesus is and what Jesus does. For me, the language of mountains and seas recall images of creation and I’m reminded of the creation story in Genesis 1 when we hear that God is the one who “called the dry land Earth, and the waters that were gathered together he called Seas.” (Gen. 1:10 NRS) Our God is a mighty God , whose works are powerful and unexpected.
 
Often, when we hear the stories of Jesus in the Bible, we see ourselves as the ones who are righteous, thinking, “We would never make that mistake…” And, other times, we make God small, or we understand God as made in our image, instead of the other way around.
 
In today’s Gospel, even Jesus starts out with a narrow vision for what God’s kingdom is about.
 
He is traveling with his disciples when he hears someone shouting. Loud and disruptive. You can picture the scene, right? There’s a bunch of noise coming from the other side of the street. Are you one of the people who inches closer to see what the ruckus is, or do you avert your eyes and look anywhere else, trying to ignore the trouble?
 
Jesus looks and sees who’s causing the disturbance. It isn’t one of his followers. No, instead it’s a woman, and a “foreigner” at that. She’s yelling something about her daughter needing help.
 
His friends urge him to send her away, and Jesus dismisses her, telling her that he is only there for “the lost sheep of Israel”. (15:24)
 
She is an unnamed woman, who isn’t Jewish and doesn’t worship the God of Israel. He doesn’t pretend not to hear her or see her; he just doesn’t think she’s worth his time.
 
Ouch.
 
I admit that this isn’t my favorite portrayal of Jesus. It’s devoid of the compassion and care we come to expect from him.
 
But the woman doesn’t slink away, and she doesn’t apologize. Instead, she says, “Lord, help me.”
 
And it’s not a coincidence or our imagination; we are meant to hear the echo of Peter’s words from last week, “Lord, save me.”
 
Her initial plea doesn’t convince Jesus though and he says again that he’s not there for her. But when she speaks again, it appears that Jesus changes his mind, and that’s when he makes the declaration, “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.” And her daughter was healed.” (15:28)
 
Today’s gospel reminds us that moments of “great faith” are not grand gestures or extravagant sacrifices. We show great faith when we show up in everyday life and name our need for compassion and healing. Because in these times of need, our faith reveals what we believe about who God is and what God does.
 
For anyone who has prayed for healing or God’s help and wondered whether God heard or answered your prayer, I want to say explicitly that suffering, and the absence of physical healing are not caused by “too little faith.”
And, as importantly, the opposite of faith is not doubt or despair. (Paul Tillich, The Courage to Be).
 
Those were popular beliefs in the ancient world - that sin or some paucity of faith was the cause of a person’s illness or suffering. And it persists in whispered gossip and sideways looks in our modern world.
 
Instead, faith says that God sees our suffering and accompanies us in those exact moments when we feel abandoned or rejected.
 
Martin Luther writes that, “Faith is a living, bold trust in God's grace, so certain of God's favor that it would risk death a thousand times trusting in it.”[i]  It is trusting that God is greater than our understanding and is acting in unexpected ways for our good.
 
Let us pray…
Good and gracious God,
Thank you for your Son Jesus who shows us how to widen our understanding of your love for the world.
Help us have courage to come to you in our every need and to ask for your help.
Sustain us with your presence and invite us to share your compassion with our neighbors.
We pray in Jesus’ name.

Amen.

[i] Martin Luther, “An Introduction to St. Paul’s Letter to the Romans,” Martin Luther’s Basic Theological Writings, Ed. Timothy Lull (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2005), 101.

Lectionary 19A

Matthew 14:22-33

I have never witnessed a tornado, but a popular warning is that the rotating winds sound like a freight train coming through the trees and buildings. Often we think of wind as something we hear – the wind whistles and blows, it gusts and howls. But in today’s gospel, the disciples, including Peter, see the force of the wind in the waves battering their boat at sea. They see the strength of what is against them, and they are afraid. Not merely afraid, but terrified.

But Jesus walks out to them, unaffected by the waves and wind, and says, “It is I, do not be afraid.”

Peter alone puts the Lord to the test, asking him to command him to come out to him. And it is in testing God that Peter betrays his faith.

I have been thinking about what makes us afraid and what makes us doubt. I wonder what threats or obstacles to faith we encounter?

Certainly, there are physical threats. Last Sunday, a friend of our family lost her home in a fire. Thankfully, everyone was safely evacuated, but when you lose everything you own in a disaster, it’s natural to ask why, and to wonder what a faithful response to the loss and trauma looks like.

Similarly, as Christians in the United States we are less likely to be persecuted for our faith, but just last week, in Haiti, a mother and child from a Christian organization were kidnapped. Thankfully they are safe now, but again, our human response is to question.

Thankfully, our faith has something to say about the presence of evil in the world. We recognize that wind and fire are natural forces and that chaotic weather events happen. We also accept that in our human condition we are both saint and sinner, and that there are people whose brokenness and desperation lead to destructive activities and corrupt behavior.

At other times, it may be the death of a beloved or a financial hardship – situations that threaten our emotional or spiritual well-being - that prompt doubt and make it difficult to find peace.

We know that our faith does not shield us or protect us like an invisible bubble. Instead, it is because we have faith that we also have confidence that God is still working to restore justice and righteousness.

Fears, doubts and challenges are part of a full life. So, when we encounter the strong winds in our own lives, when we see what or who is against us, we have a choice to make about how we will respond.

Can we hear God’s assurances and promises and have confidence in who God is, and how God has acted in the past? The psalms are helpful here. Often a psalm begins with a complaint and then the writer will name the characteristics of God as they have been seen in history and then the psalmist returns to the current problem and asks God to again act in favor of God’s people.

Sometimes we struggle though. Perhaps our hearts are hardened, or our ears are blocked but we’re unable to trust God in that moment. There’s an English proverb that says, “Trust but verify.” That appears to be what Peter attempts to do. But in Deuteronomy we are commanded, “Do not put the LORD your God to the test…”  (Deuteronomy 6:16 NRS) God promises to be Emmanuel, God with us, and we know God’s merciful love and forgiveness is for us. And yet, we stumble and sink, trying to step out on our own.

Thanks be to God, that even then, God reaches out and catches us, saving us from the depths. (Matthew 14:31)

I think it’s important that, in today’s gospel, the wind doesn’t cease until Jesus and Peter get into the boat with the others. While jokes are made about Peter, whom Jesus called the “rock” sinking in the water, the story isn’t just about Peter. All the disciples were afraid. They all had to choose how they would respond in the midst of their fear. And watching them, I wonder, when we are confident in our faith, how do we protect those who are vulnerable? Do we come alongside them, or do we leave them to make their own mistakes and risk sinking?

I think today’s gospel reminds us that while faith is personal, it is never private. It is never only about me and God. Faith in its fullest expression is communal. We gather together to hear God’s Word spoken or read. We gather together at God’s table to receive Holy Communion. We gather together to welcome the newly baptized and to bury the dead. And when we make mistakes, we are forgiven and welcomed back into fellowship together.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God,

Thank you for your Son Jesus who comes to us when we are afraid.

Help us hear your promises of steadfast presence and faithfulness,

And help us welcome others into life together.

We pray in the name of Jesus, our Lord and Savior.

Amen.

I originally planned to preach this in Spanish, so the Spanish is included below.

Mateo 14:22-33

Oremos… Que las palabras de mi boca y las meditaciones de nuestro corazón sean gratas a tus ojos, Señor, nuestra fortaleza y nuestro redentor. Amén.

Nunca he sido testigo de un tornado, pero una advertencia popular es que los vientos giratorios suenan como un tren de carga atravesando árboles y edificios. A menudo pensamos en el viento como algo que escuchamos: el viento silba y sopla, ráfagas y aullidos. Pero en el evangelio de hoy, los discípulos, incluido Pedro, ven la fuerza del viento en las olas golpeando su bote en el mar. Ven la fuerza de lo que está contra ellos, y tienen miedo. No solo asustado, sino aterrorizado.

Pero Jesús se acerca a ellos, sin que le afecten las olas ni el viento, y les dice: “Soy yo, no tengáis miedo”.

Sólo Pedro pone a prueba al Señor, pidiéndole que le mande salir a él. Y es al probar a Dios que Pedro traiciona su fe.

He estado pensando en lo que nos da miedo y lo que nos hace dudar. Me pregunto qué amenazas u obstáculos para la fe encontramos.

Ciertamente, hay amenazas físicas. El domingo pasado, una amiga de nuestra familia perdió su casa en un incendio. Afortunadamente, todos fueron evacuados de manera segura, pero cuando pierde todo lo que posee en un desastre, es natural preguntarse por qué y preguntarse cómo sería una respuesta fiel a la pérdida y el trauma.

De manera similar, como cristianos en los Estados Unidos, es menos probable que seamos perseguidos por nuestra fe, pero la semana pasada, en Haití, una madre y su hijo de una organización cristiana fueron secuestrados. Afortunadamente ahora están a salvo, pero nuevamente, nuestra respuesta humana es cuestionar.

Afortunadamente, nuestra fe tiene algo que decir sobre la presencia del mal en el mundo. Reconocemos que el viento y el fuego son fuerzas naturales y que ocurren eventos climáticos caóticos.

También aceptamos que en nuestra condición humana somos tanto santos como pecadores, y que hay personas cuyo quebrantamiento y desesperación conducen a actividades destructivas y conductas corruptas.

En otros momentos, puede ser la muerte de un ser querido o una dificultad económica -situaciones que amenazan nuestro bienestar emocional o espiritual- que suscitan dudas y dificultan encontrar la paz.

Sabemos que nuestra fe no nos escuda ni nos protege como una burbuja invisible. En cambio, es porque tenemos fe que también tenemos confianza en que Dios todavía está trabajando para restaurar la justicia y la rectitud.

Los miedos, las dudas y los desafíos son parte de una vida plena. Entonces, cuando nos encontramos con los fuertes vientos en nuestras propias vidas, cuando vemos qué o quién está en nuestra contra, tenemos que elegir cómo responderemos.

¿Podemos escuchar las garantías y promesas de Dios y tener confianza en quién es Dios y cómo ha actuado en el pasado? Los salmos son útiles aquí. A menudo, un salmo comienza con una queja y luego el escritor nombrará las características de Dios como se han visto en la historia y luego el salmista vuelve al problema actual y le pide a Dios que actúe nuevamente a favor del pueblo de Dios.

Aunque a veces luchamos. Tal vez nuestros corazones están endurecidos o nuestros oídos están tapados, pero no podemos confiar en Dios en ese momento. Hay un proverbio inglés que dice: "Confía pero verifica". Eso parece ser lo que Peter intenta hacer.

Pero en Deuteronomio se nos ordena: “No tentaréis a Jehová vuestro Dios…” (Deuteronomio 6:16 NVI) Dios promete ser Emanuel, Dios con nosotros, y sabemos que el amor misericordioso y el perdón de Dios son para nosotros. Y, sin embargo, tropezamos y nos hundimos, tratando de salir solos.

Gracias a Dios, que aún así, Dios se extiende y nos atrapa, salvándonos de las profundidades. (Mateo 14:31)

Creo que es importante que, en el evangelio de hoy, el viento no cesa hasta que Jesús y Pedro suben a la barca con los demás. Si bien se hacen bromas sobre Pedro, a quien Jesús llamó la "roca" que se hunde en el agua, la historia no se trata solo de Pedro. Todos los discípulos tenían miedo. Todos tenían que elegir cómo responderían en medio de su miedo. Y viéndolos, me pregunto, cuando confiamos en nuestra fe, ¿cómo protegemos a los que son vulnerables?

¿Vamos con ellos o los dejamos para que cometan sus propios errores y se arriesguen a hundirse?

Creo que el evangelio de hoy nos recuerda que si bien la fe es personal, nunca es privada. Nunca se trata sólo de mí y de Dios. La fe en su máxima expresión es comunitaria. Nos reunimos para escuchar la Palabra de Dios hablada o leída.

Nos reunimos en la mesa de Dios para recibir la Sagrada Comunión. Nos reunimos para recibir a los recién bautizados y enterrar a los muertos. Y cuando cometemos errores, somos perdonados y bienvenidos de nuevo a la comunión. 

Oremos…

Dios bueno y misericordioso, Gracias por tu Hijo Jesús que viene a nosotros cuando tenemos miedo. Ayúdanos a escuchar tus promesas de presencia constante y fidelidad, Y ayúdanos a acoger a otros en la vida juntos. Oramos en el nombre de Jesús, nuestro Señor y Salvador. Amén.