Sermon - Pentecost 13 - Matthew 16:13-20

This week and next we have an important conversation between Jesus and Peter.  It happened at Caeserea Phillipi, a town in the northern part of Israel named for two men – Caesar, the Roman Emperor, and Phillip the Tetrarch, one of the Herodian rulers.  Phillip had rebuilt this city and renamed it in honor of Caesar and, of course, himself.

 

Against the backdrop of this city named for two powerful men, we listen in on a conversation about the identity of two other men – Jesus and Peter.  And in the course of it, we will see who Jesus is not – who he is – and also who Peter is, and what Jesus makes him to be.

 

“Who do men say that I am?” Jesus challenges his disciples.  They know full well all the speculative answers people have given.  Is he John the Baptist, come back from the dead, as was Herod’s opinion?  No, John was dead, even though both he and Jesus preached about the Kingdom of God.

 

Is he Elijah, as some of the Jews believed, the fore-runner of the Messiah?  No, we know that was the role John the Baptist played.  Maybe he’s Jeremiah or one of the other prophets, come back to life, following this or that superstitious belief.

 

Today we could also make a list of wrong-answers about who Jesus is.  Just a good man who taught some nice things about love and such.  But not the Son of God. 

 

Maybe a prophet – Islam says that -  but just another prophet and not even the greatest one.  One among many, not the Way, the Truth and the Life.

 

Some would see Jesus as an example to follow – and point out his humility and kindness, and how he served people and washed the disciples’ feet.  Of course all that’s true.  But it misses the point, the much greater point, that he came to save his people from sin.

 

Even the cross can be, and is mis-interpreted, as some see Jesus’ dying as the ultimate martyrdom for a good cause – and of course, then, we should follow whatever cause that person is peddling.  Yes, be willing to die for your beliefs.  Is that the Jesus we know?  Of course there’s much more.

 

Jesus was setting the contrast to make it clear to his disciples.  I’m not any of those things.  You know better.  He gave them an opportunity to confess, and confess rightly.  Who do YOU say that I am?  And Peter speaks for them all, “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.”

 

To call him the Christ was no small thing.  The Messiah, the anointed one, long promised and now sent by God to save his people from sin.  The one who kept the law whole and undefiled on our behalf.  The one who would suffer and die in our place.  No mere man, not just a “son of man”, but also the Son of God.  And not just any God, but the Living God.

 

Also in Caeserea Phillipi, was a sacred cave, and elaborate temple complex, with all sorts of pagan gods represented.  Hewn into the side of a prominent cliff, tourists can still visit its remains today and see the many niches carved out in the stone, where various gods and idols were placed for worship.  They had temples to Pan, Hermes, and of course Emperor Augustus himself. 

 

Against this panoply of false gods, Peter confesses Jesus, the Son of the Living God.  These are stone, they are dead, and Caesar is just a man.  But our God lives, and gives life through his Son, Jesus Christ.

 

Well, I doubt you visit pagan temples, but I know your sinful flesh, like mine,

Is easily led to idolatry.  We have all our own little niches carved out, and we pay the idols homage in turn.  Perhaps the greatest false god among us is our own self.  Sinful pride, sinful indulgence, sinful selfishness of all manner and form.  Each of us worships at the altar of our own fallen desires and wicked motives, a petty little would-be god enshrined in every human heart.  That’s who you are, at least according to the flesh.  But that’s not all you are.

 

Remember the rock from which you were hewn – Abraham, the father of all the faithful.  He believed in God and it was credited to him as righteousness.  And when the Holy Spirit formed a new heart out of your old stone heart, he made you a child of Abraham, by faith.  When you came to confess Jesus as the Christ, the Son of the Living God, you join your faithful confession to that of Peter and all the other Christians whose foundation is Christ, the chief cornerstone.

 

Now, Rome sees this passage as Jesus instituting the papacy through Peter, “on this rock I will build my church”.  But the Greek language disproves this.  Peter is “Petros”, the masculine form.  The rock on which Jesus builds is “Petra” the feminine form.  So it’s not Peter himself, but Peter’s confession of Christ that is the foundation.  It all starts with Jesus, rightly confessed.

 

Here, also, Jesus gives his church a great gift.  He bestows upon her the Office of the Keys.  He says, “I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.”  What does he mean here?  He’s establishing the Office of the Holy Ministry.  Peter, along with the other apostles, are the first pastors of his church.  And their chief duty, their main focus, is the retaining and forgiving, or the binding and loosing of sins.  And as these keys are from Jesus, they have the power even to lock and unlock the very gates of heaven.

 

Our Small Catechism puts it well, “What do you believe according to these words?  I believe that when the called ministers of Christ deal with us by his divine command, in particular when they exclude openly unrepentant sinners from the Christian congregation and absolve those who repent of their sins and want to do better, this is just as valid and certain, even in heaven, as if Christ our dear Lord dealt with us himself.”

 

So take comfort in the loosing of sins that Jesus gives you through his pastors, and pray for the pastor to be faithful in the exercise of this important authority from Christ.

 

“Who do you say that I am?”  Who do you confess Jesus to be?  This is one of the most important questions of life.  And it’s related to the other important question, “who am I?”  Yes, I am a sinner, but also, I am in Christ.  Yes, I falter and fail, in thought, word and deed, but Christ’s righteousness is upon me.  Yes, I am a child of Adam, and heir to all his rebellion and death.  But more importantly, I am a child of God, heir to righteousness, destined for eternal life.

 

And make no mistake, Christ builds his church.  He builds it heart by heart, redeemed sinner by redeemed sinner, brick by brick, on the confession of his name.  He does it when his word is proclaimed.  He does it when absolution is pronounced. He does it when children and adults are baptized.  He’s even building his church, strengthening and fortifying her, as he feeds her his holy supper.  Steeled for battle, with sins forgiven and faith strengthened, we are ready to charge against even the very gates of hell.  And they cannot prevail.

 

So, who is Jesus?  He is the Christ, the Son of the Living God.  He is the one who builds his church.  He is the one who sends pastors to forgive sins. 

 

Who are we?  We are the church, the people for whom he died, the people who confess his name.  The people to whom the gates of heaven are open, and against whom the gates of hell cannot prevail.  Built on rock, the church shall stand.  And that rock is Jesus.

Sermon - Pentecost 12 - Matthew 15:21-28

“We are all beggars, this is true”. Some of the last words of Martin Luther – found by his secretary on a scrap of paper the day before Luther died. We are all beggars. We come with nothing to Jesus, and he gives us everything. We can't bargain or deal, purchase or sell. We can only beg for his mercy and grace that we do not deserve in the least. Beggars, all. 

She had no earthly reason to expect help from Jesus. This woman wasn't a Jew, or from Israel. She was a Canaanite. A heathen. How did she know about David? And how did she know Jesus was the “Son of David”? Did she know that was a loaded term – indicating he indeed is the Messiah? Had she heard the good news of his kingdom, even before he arrived? Surely somehow. 

 

The Syro-Phonecian woman was a beggar. Perhaps she had money and wealth, but she didn't have what she wanted most. Her daughter was beset by a demon. And when the great teacher and miracle worker, who some even whispered might be the Messiah, when he came to her neck of the woods, she went out to find him. And she cried out, pleaded, begged for mercy. 

 

Like her, we are unworthy to ask for anything good from the Lord. We have no pedigree but original sin. We have no works of righteousness, only works of lawlessness. We have no holiness of our own, but only a life stained by sin and destined for death. We are helpless and hopeless without Christ. Beggars. 

 

She cries, “Have mercy on me, O Lord, Son of David; my daughter is severely oppressed by a demon” 

 

And Jesus does something strange. He doesn't say yes. At first, he is silent. 

 

How often do our pleas and petitions meet with silence from our Lord? Often. So we can relate. Did he hear us? Is he ignoring us? Does the silence mean “no”? Or is something else going on? 

 

The disciples are getting tired of it already. They want Jesus to send her away – that is, they want him to give her what she asks and be done with her loud crying and begging. (Notice, the disciples are beggars too, by the way). But still, he seems to resist. 

"I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel." 

 

To be clear – Jesus doesn't mean that he came as Savior of Israel only. But in his preaching and healing leading to the cross, his commission was to Israel. Only after the resurrection are all nations drawn into the kingdom. Still, a number of outsiders receive help from the Lord, even before his work is done. They would be a kind of first-fruits, a foreshadowing, of the many nations who would receive the kingdom. 

 

The woman begs some more. She kneels down, in a show of humility. A good posture for the sinner to take before Almighty God. And if not physically, we should all bend low before God in the same humble acknowledgment of our own unworthiness. 

 

"It is not right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs." 

 

“The children” are the Israelites. “The Dogs” that's what the Israelites called the Gentiles – outsiders. Dogs. Not a term of endearment. But Jesus isn't quite so harsh. He throws the woman a bone, if you will. When he calls her a dog – he uses the term for a house dog, a pet... rather than a mutt wandering the streets. A “little dog” or a “pup” might be a closer English equivalent.  Or even a lap-dog. 

 

And now the woman sees. Her faith, which had brought her this far – out from her home and to where Jesus was – following persistently, falling on her knees.... over against Jesus' silence and his protest, her faith begs, and begs. And she prevails upon Jesus... 

 

Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table." 

 

A beautiful three-fold confession of faith. One, that she is a dog – unworthy to sit with the children. Two, that he is the master. Three that he, Jesus, would grant her this request out of his mercy. And so he does. 

 

And here's the mystery. He meant to all along. Why put her through all this before he grants the request? Why ignore her, put her off, 

make her think he might say no? 

 

Was it to strengthen her faith? Was it an exercise? Was it to teach us persistence in our prayers and petitions? Or was it to give her also the blessing of an opportunity to show her faith – to make a confession? Surely all of the above. 

 

So often in our lives, we call on the Lord for help and hear silence. We are tempted to think he doesn't hear, or doesn't care. We may grow discouraged and think that God is indifferent, or worse that he’s punishing us in some way.  But as one of our recent hymns puts it well, “behind a frowning countenance, faith sees a smiling face”. 

 

Faith holds God to his word of promise. Martin Luther said it well: 

 

She catches the Lord Christ with His own Words. Yes, still more, with the rights of a dog she gains the rights of a child. Now where will he go, the dear Jesus? He has caught Himself and must help her. But know this well, He loves to be caught in this way. If we only had the skill of this woman to catch God in His own judgment and say: 'Yes, Lord, it is true, I am a sinner and not worthy of Thy grace, but you have promised forgiveness and didst not come to call the righteous, but, like St. Paul says, 1 Timothy 1:15, 'to save sinners.' Behold, the Lord must then through His own judgment, have mercy on us. 

And one more thought. As we are all beggars, so we are all the dogs waiting for crumbs from the table. But as we receive faith, so we become children. And so also, share the food with others. 

 

What child hasn't fed the family dog from the table – accidentally, and even with glee. So does the Christian share the Gospel. Accidentally, through works of love and service, by witnessing to the faith that drives us. Inadvertently, as we go about our callings in the world, doing all that we do for the Lord. Or even pointedly, purposely, as we have the opportunity to share the love of Christ in words, even the Gospel. Or else by supporting the work of the church with our time, talents, and treasures. Yes, in many ways, we throw the crumbs of the Gospel to those hungering for it. Just as we have received, so we generously give. 

 

For what precious food this is! That even the crumbs are worth begging for. But he gives us so much more. He gives a lavish feast – a full course meal. He feeds us with his word, and even literally feeds us with his own body and blood. Not food we deserve, but the food of faith which sustains and strengthens us and delivers us forgiveness, life and salvation. 

 

Oh, to be a beggar. Oh to be fed from the Master's table. Oh to feast on the fine food he gives. Faith begs, and faith receives, from Jesus Christ our Lord and merciful Master. Amen.