The Right Answer to the Question

A sermon preached with the people of Church of Our Saviour Episcopal in Akron, Ohio.

This morning, Jesus has two questions for the disciples. The first is, “who do people say that the Son of Man is?” And he gets a variety of answers from them. I love imagining the conversations the disciples have had with random folks they encounter in their day-to-day lives that inform these answers: “some say John the Baptist, but others Elijah, and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.”

And then comes Jesus’ second question. “Who do you say that I am.” And we get to hear only one answer to this question. Peter answers, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” And for this answer, Peter gets no less than  the keys to the Kingdom. Peter is named “the rock on which the church will be built.”

And, all of a sudden, our friend Peter, who is known to, let’s say, step in it; Peter, our reckless friend, become Simon Peter; becomes Saint Peter — The guy we know from paintings and stained glass windows and even movies and cartoons, with beautiful robes, big gold keys in-hand, often wearing a bishop’s mitre.  

I mean, I don’t want to question God’s decision here. That’s generally a really bad idea. And Peter’s answer is a good one. And it is obviously correct. But there are so many ways to answer the question “who do you say Jesus is?” Right? The lamb, the second person of the Trinity, love, the advocate, the anointed, the Son of David, Immanuel, King of Kings and, of course, Our Saviour. I think these are all, also, right answers to the question.

So I wonder if Peter gets this honor not because he had the one right answer or demonstrated the greatest faith of all the disciples, but because of his signature recklessness. Because he is the kid in class who blurts out the answer without raising his hand. I just have this feeling that some of the other disciples had that same answer (or something similar) on the tips of their tongues. But maybe they were being more polite. More restrained. Maybe they were formulating the words, to get them just so. Because this was an important moment, and it called for special care.

 But before they could even open their mouths, here comes old Peter: YouAreTheMessiahTheSonOfTheLiving God!

Peter’s holy recklessness doesn’t always work out for him. Literally in the next set of verses we will hear next week he puts his foot in it when he tries to insist that surely all this business about Jesus having to endure great suffering in Jerusalem cannot and will not be. “Get behind me Satan,” Jesus responds. A far cry from “I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven” in just a matter of moments!

 But Peter will be Peter, and Peter will blurt out what is on his heart before he lets his mind catch up.

 And Jesus loves him for this.

 I wonder … I wonder what Episcopalians might have to learn from this LOL.

It is so, so tempting for me to imagine this business of following Jesus; of discipleship is, at its core, about study. About quiet time. About reading and contemplating scripture at the appointed hour, about writing and formulating just the right prayer before the occasion it is to be prayed. About carefully crafted liturgy. About well-planned events.

But when I think about the moments I’ve felt closest to having the right answer to the question “who do you say that I am”; the closest to living out my call of following Jesus; it’s been in “blurting it out” moments.

You know? Those moments when you’ve got lots of things you should be doing. When your day was planned. You have responsibilities. But you go to the protest; you help the stranger you meet on the street; you give the money even when it’s tight, and even when you don’t know quite how it will be used; you say the thing out loud that might make people (might make yourself) uncomfortable.

You do something reckless. You blurt something out. Without that much thought. Without planning or formulating. Because you know. You know it is the answer to God’s question. It is the answer to God’s call.

The brave women of our reading from Exodus this morning are all about this kind of holy recklessness.

Midwives Shiphrah and Puah are told by their king to kill male Hebrew infants. But they know the answer to God’s question. They know what God wants. And so they do something reckless. They let the babies live, and they blurt out lies to Pharaoh.

The Levite woman knows what Pharaoh commands when she gives birth to a boy. But she too knows the answer to God’s question. And she does something reckless. She hides the baby for three months, and then sends him down the river in a floating basket.

And when the daughter of Pharaoh fishes the baby out of the river, she knows her father’s command. But she also knows the answer to God’s question. And she does something reckless. She asks an attendent, who unbeknownst to her happens to be the baby’s sister, to bring him to a Hebrew woman to nurse.

And the baby’s sister, brings him to his own mother to nurse and to raise. And, once grown, he is brought back to Pharaoh’s daughter, and named Moses.

A circle of beautiful, holy recklessness from the women – the many mothers – of Moses. Unafraid to blurt out the answer to God’s question. At great risk to their own lives.

When Peter is given those keys. I wonder what that really means. Are these truly keys only for him – a unique honor, or gift, that he receives? Maybe.

But could it be that these keys to the kingdom are what we all get when we blurt out the answer; when we engage in the kind of holy recklessness and testaments to our faith that answer God’s question in the moment. Could it be that that’s when we receive a set of keys; keys that unlock a glimpse of the Kingdom of God. Right here and right now.

Because it is in these moments when I – and a when others in my midst – drop the politeness and practicalities in favor of God’s mission that I can see —  that I can really see, and believe, how real it is. How possible it is. This Kingdom of Heaven. This kingdom when and where and how all is made new, turned upside-down. Where God’s justice reigns, prisoners go free, the poor inherit the earth, and kings fall from their thrones.

Where women of a persecuted people become mothers of a revolution.

Where little babies born with a death sentence lead their people to freedom.

Where fisherman with a habit of speaking before they think become the “rock on which the church will be built.”