"Opening" | Charissa Simmons | September 15, 2024

Who do you say that I am?

That's a big question. We hear Jesus ask this question today in the Gospel reading at a critical point in the Gospel of Mark. It's a turning point in the narrative from the story of Jesus' work to the story of the road to the Cross.

Jesus here talks with his disciples for the first time about what his future holds.

It is also at a significant spot geographically.

Jesus and his followers are on the way to the Villages of Cesaria Philippi near the temple built by Herod the Great, dedicated to Rome and the Emperor Augustus – a man who added to his title the phrase "Dei Filius," son of the Divine.

So walking into this place at this point in his life, Jesus is asking who people say that he is. And then: who do the disciples say that he is?

Jesus is pushing the point here about who he is, but also about what that means. Peter says, "You are the Messiah," but when Jesus talks about how that plays out, Peter is disbelieving – because surely the Messiah would save them by driving out the imperialist Roman oppressors, not be killed by them. But that's not Jesus. Jesus is the Messiah who comes to bring life, to bring the kingdom of God to Earth.

Who do you say that Jesus is?

It's a big question to ponder, and it's a good question to try and answer. Who is Jesus to you?

And the second part of this discourse is even more important in some ways. Based on who you say that Jesus is, then what difference does that make in your life? If you are a follower of Jesus, what does that mean for the way that you live? Who would people say that you are?

A few weeks ago, I went to see a new eye doctor. I was sitting in the reception area filling out those new patient forms before my appointment, and near the end of the forms I got to this part that has always given me pause. It's those two little questions about employment: "Who's your employer?" and, "What is your occupation?"

The first of those questions is easy. I dutifully tried to squeeze the words "Trinity Episcopal Cathedral" onto that little line, but the next question isn't as easy for me.

Ever since I started working here at Trinity, I've never known quite what to say. I could have written down my job title, right: "Canon for Spiritual Formation," but that wouldn't mean anything to anyone outside of the church, and frankly doesn't mean much to most people in the church, either.

Sometimes, in the past, I've written down "Christian Education" as my occupation, which is somewhat descriptive, but it never really felt quite right. And so this time I wrote down a word I've thought about many times but was hesitant to use, in part because it could lead people to assume that I'm ordained, and I'm not, and I have no plans to be.

I wrote down the word "Minister," and I felt good about claiming that identity.

Now, I can claim the identity of minister in part because of my job. I'm a professional Christian. But I was a minister long before I started working here, before I got my own office, before I put on an alb and climbed into this pulpit.

And although those things definitely helped me to be able to write that word on a form, they're not the main point. My ministry isn't about the professional trappings of my job, it's about sitting on the floor with children, guiding them in theological reflection. It's praying with you. It's greeting children by name so that they know they are seen in this place.

It's acknowledging the people hanging out on our campus during the week as human beings, even when I'm annoyed at their activities.

It's reassuring parents that their child is always loved here, no matter the behavior.

My ministry happens every day in my relationships with you all, with people out in the world, with strangers I meet here Sundays and during the week.

But ultimately I am a minister because I am a follower of Christ, and so are you.

It even says so in the Book of Common Prayer – that's the red book in the pew.

I'm going to read it to you, but if you want to follow along it's on page 855, in the catechism, in the section about the ministry.

"The ministers of the church," it says, "are lay persons, bishops, priests, and deacons."

So that's all of us. And notice that lay people (non-ordained people) – lay people come before bishops.

And then continuing: "The ministry of lay persons is to represent Christ and his church, to bear witness to him wherever they may be, and according to the gifts given, them to carry on Christ's work of reconciliation in the world and to take their place in the life, worship, and governance of the church."

And at the end of the section, it reads, "The duty of all Christians is to follow Christ, to come together for corporate worship, and to work, pray, and give for the spread of the kingdom of God."

So this is what it means to be followers of Jesus: Jesus the Messiah who comes to bring life to the world.

Ministry is what Jesus is talking about when he says, "Those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the Gospel, will save it."

It's not about suffering for suffering's sake, or sacrificing all that we are, all that we have. It's about opening: opening to the world in love. Taking up our cross is doing the hard work of love, even when it's difficult.

Augustine often talked about Sin as a "curving inward on oneself."

And the implication then is that God's Redemption helps us to uncurl and open up to the world. And that's a helpful image for imagining what Jesus is getting at when he speaks of losing and saving our lives, losing our obsession with self-preservation and living for ourselves, and opening to living for each other, open to creating the kingdom of God on Earth.

It doesn't take employment at a church for you to claim the title Minister.

What would it take for you to claim that identity?

It's right there in the prayer book: "work, pray, and give for the spread of the kingdom of God, and according to the gifts given to you, carry on Christ's work of reconciliation in the world."

Amen.