Now that you’ve signed up for this trip, fasten your seat belts and let’s get going. Do you have your passport? Check. Do you have your vaccination card? Check. Are you wearing your mask? Check. Do you have plenty of water and hand sanitizer? Check. Okay, then. First, stop: Caesarea Philippi.
But first, I want to warn you about the risks. We’ll be heading to occupied Syria in the Golan Heights. It’s a tense place of divided loyalties, and it could be dangerous. But once we get to Caesarea Philippi, you’ll see how beautiful it is. The Jordan River has its source there, and the waters that bubble up and flow down closer to Jericho are beautiful and crystal clear.
Next, we’ll head down the river in the direction of Jerusalem. That’s our final destination. But on the way, we need to make a stop down near Jericho and the Dead Sea. Here, we’re told, is the site of Jesus’ baptism. And this part of the Jordan River, well, it doesn’t even look like the same body of water we saw up in Caesarea Philippi. It’s muddy, and quite frankly, it looks disgusting. You can’t even see to the bottom of it. It’s no majestic river; it’s just a tiny stream.
Oh, and by the way, since it’s my job to warn you about danger, let me do so now. Don’t go too far into the river, and please do stay on this side of that rope halfway across. The other side is Jordan, where you can see those armed guards on the other bank. We only have permission to be on this side of the river. And I should mention, too, that there could be land mines in the riverbed. Do be careful.
Once you’ve finished your picture taking, it’s time to head to our final destination, Jerusalem. We’ll be going up a hill. It’s a bit of a slug to the top of the holiest city on earth. I wonder if it’s what you expected. Did you expect the visible markers of Jesus’ life and death to be so marred by conflict? Did you ever expect to see Christians fighting over ownership in the church built on the site of Jesus’ final hours? Did you ever expect to see people vie hostilely with one another to revere the holiest sites of their faith, even though it’s inherently one of peace?
Could there be any more perfect metaphor for the Christian life than the geography of the Holy Land? From the area around Galilee to Caesarea Philippi to Jerusalem itself, the topography and geography of the land itself represents the Christian journey.
And as Peter finds out halfway through Mark’s Gospel, when he gets to Caesarea Philippi, it’s time for Jesus to head south to his final destination. This is the turning point in Mark’s Gospel after the innumerable highlights of Jesus’ Galilean ministry. After healing, teaching, and attracting crowds, now it’s time to go to Jerusalem. And impetuous, brash, and feisty Peter is all too eager to sign up for this cruise, too. The auspicious beginning of the journey is in Caesarea Philippi, where the waters of the Jordan have their origin in natural beauty, where you can practically see your feet while wading in the water.
What better place is there for Jesus to pose his question? Who do you say that I am? After all, everyone else is offering their answers. It’s clear to the disciples that there is something peculiar and notable about Jesus, that he is even sent from God. The waters of the Jordan at Caesarea Philippi are as clear as the tidy answers to Jesus’ question. So, Peter thinks, why not up the ante and get the best grade on this quiz? Jesus, he says, you are the Christ.
But Jesus’ response is oblique. Tell no one about this. And he has more to say. Like the tour guide who is about to spoil the cruise by mentioning potential danger, Jesus starts reminding everyone of the fine print. Do you remember that cruise you thought you signed up for? Well, it’s more complicated than you thought. We’re headed into precarious territory. In fact, right now, we’re in hotly contested country. And when we get down to that baptismal site, you know, where I was baptized, you will get a taste of what you signed up for.
You’ll be disappointed that the waters are a bit muddy. Those clear answers you think you have right here in Caesarea Philippi will become cloudy farther down the Jordan. There, you won’t be able to see your feet. You won’t be able to see if there really are land mines remaining on the riverbed. You better be careful.
But Peter is having none of it. He knows what cruise he signed up for. He knows who Jesus is, and he knows what this journey is going to be like. Hush, Jesus, let me enjoy the sun and the good food. Don’t remind me that the extra frills weren’t included in the initial asking price. Don’t tell me that the ship we’re on isn’t fit for the rough seas. And please don’t tell me that the waters are about to get choppy.
But Jesus replies, and not just to Peter, but to everyone within earshot. And he says, Peter, you did sign up for this cruise, and just wait until you reach Jerusalem. Just wait.
And this is precisely where we, too, might find ourselves getting stuck. We are on the same cruise as Peter. We have entered full tilt into this journey, paid our deposit, and boarded this cruise with our eyes set on Jerusalem. We have checked the box of our baptism, probably in the clear waters of a safe font, and we have checked yet another box by being here today. We’re ready for this journey. We’re going from here to there, and there is Jerusalem.
But, Jesus says, just wait until you reach Jerusalem. Then you’ll really understand.
And we might cry out, like Peter. Jesus, this is not the cruise we signed up for! We climbed up this mountain towards Jerusalem, carrying our cross, too, and when we got here, we saw only fighting, rage, animosity, and petty grievances. Right now, all we see is human agony wrought by natural disasters. We are meeting people wracked by grief because the human family simply can’t get along. We looked for you, but we didn’t find you. We were expecting our reward. We were looking forward to beautiful views. We wanted to see you in glory and to share in it, too. But all we see are the depths of despair, a cleft rock, and an empty tomb. What happened? How did we miss you? Or did we sign up for the wrong cruise?
And Jesus’ words sting: you were ashamed of me, he says. When I showed you all the rough spots on this journey, you blissfully ignored me with your eyes set on your final destination. You took pictures, but you failed to see me in them. And now that you have reached your destination, you still miss the fact that I’m actually here. I’m standing right before you.
Here I am on this lonely hill that once sat outside the holy city, and I am the only one who can bring peace to this place. I have brought everyone here to be together, but they are hating one another rather than seeing me.
Because some who have lured you into this journey with me have shown you the flashy large print, the spectacular rewards and the descriptions of the beautiful views. They have taken your money and given you the easy answers, which so easily get lost in the muddy waters of the Jordan.
But, says Jesus, there in the small print, you will find me. And because you have inverted my own values, you cannot see that the small print is the good news of the gospel, and for that small print, you should be willing to give your life.
And this fine print of the Gospel, even if it is hard to swallow at times, speaks of hope in the midst of despair, of grace even in the throes of tragedy, of deep truth that speaks more authentically than shallow promises, of the lowly being lifted up and the powerful being cast down. It’s a strange Gospel, but a beautiful one. The fine print of the Gospel reminds you that in all those dirty places you’d rather avoid, in all those muddy river currents of this life’s journey, there I am. That’s where I bring my Gospel, even if it’s a long way from Caesarea Philippi.
This small print of the Gospel is something that few people want to talk about. Most, like Peter, would rather speak of it in hushed tones. But I, Jesus, announce it boldly, because it’s the only way the world can be turned upside-down to be made right-side-up.
And Jesus concludes, having reached Jerusalem, and climbed to the top of that beautiful mountain, you will not be able to ignore the anguish or the aching hearts. But if you look out over the land, the valleys and rifts merge into one with the surrounding terrain, and the divisions seem to disappear. And if you’re honest, you’ll realize that while it may not be the cruise you signed up for, it’s definitely worth taking. Because on this trip, no matter what you lose, you will gain your life.
Sermon by Father Kyle Babin
The Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost
September 12, 2021