Belonging

I want to begin today by noticing what doesn’t happen in the Gospel. This is a famous interaction, one of the most palpably angry moments we have from Jesus. We Episcopalians don’t eagerly contemplate God’s anger. We don’t tend to make stained glass with an grumpy-faced Jesus. We prefer our savior more serene. But Jesus could get angry. Here in the text Jesus says to Peter, “Get behind me Satan.” You still feel the sting of this words. You might have winced when it was read. Still, I want to invite you to notice what doesn’t happen.

What doesn’t happen is simple: Peter does not disappear. When Jesus rebukes Peter, he doesn’t vanish from the story, he doesn’t shy away. Yes, Jesus gets angry, and Jesus still includes Peter, still invites him to follow. Peter isn’t dismissed. He doesn’t go missing. Peter isn’t cancelled.

What doesn’t happen may surprise us. We live in contentious days. In these days people are often treated as if they are disposable. We don’t disagree well. Too often in our society, there is no coming back from disagreement. We cut people off. We stop working with them, or start working around them. We vote them off the island. Or we walk away.

What’s surprising about this moment is that as the Gospel goes on, Peter does not even remain silent. Just after this story, Jesus will invite Peter, James, and John up the mountain to witness the transfiguration (a story we heard just two weeks ago). Peter will be the one to say, “let us build dwellings for you, Moses and Elijah.” Peter is wrong again, but he doesn’t stop trying. Jesus doesn’t send him packing. Peter still belongs. Though at times he disagrees. Though he gets ahead of himself. Though he gets it wrong, Peter still belongs. He still matters.

That Peter doesn’t lose his place has meaning for us. I want to invite you to consider this morning that Peter’s ongoing belonging, despite Jesus’ momentary anger, it speaks to us about two things. First it tells us about God, and second it communicates about the kind of community to which Jesus is invites us.

Believing in One God

Let’s talk about God. In order to talk about God and Peter, first I want to back up. Way back, all the way back to Abraham. Abraham has been called the founder of monotheism. Abraham is regarded as the patriarch of the three great monotheistic faiths: Judaism, Christianity and Islam.

Monotheism is a radical idea. Proclaiming he Oneness of God was, in a world that believed in competing gods, where every tribe had a different God is profound. Monotheism is still radical today because saying “I believe in One God,” does not mean “I believe in my God, and not yours.” It means, more accurately, “the separation is an illusion.” God is God. Period. The life behind our life, the breath beneath our breath, the love which supports our love, we call this God. God is the same for us all. There is only one God.

Psalm 139 puts it this way: “where can I go from your presence?” If I climb up to heaven, or lay down in the grave, you are there. If I take the wings of the morning or dwell in the deepest sea, even there your hand will lead me. I like to call psalm 139 the Runaway Bunny psalm, because God is there, wherever we are. The Oneness of God means that just as there is nowhere to flee, there is no need to flee.

Peter is not dismissed by Jesus, theologically, because there is nowhere for Peter to go. Peter belongs. Full stop. Just as each and every one of us belongs. Nothing we can do can sever that belonging. As we say in baptism: “you are sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ’s own forever.” There is no other god to which we can run. There is nowhere separate from God. We are inextricably held by the presence of the one true God.

How Christians Do Community

Believing in God this way, believing in the One God this way, also has implications for how we make community with one another. As I said earlier, we live in a society that is quick to cut people off. Sometimes this is called “cancel culture,” but don’t get stuck on the political background noise. We live in days where relationships are perhaps less persistent than they have ever been. We are accustomed to letting go of people.

I suspect this has to do with how nomadic we have become. We are more likely today to change zip codes than at any other time in human history. We are also changing jobs, professions, and partners at record rates. In recent years we have seen an uptick in the number of people who change denominations, heck who change whole religions. I am not here to tell you that change is a bad thing. Jesus moved all over Palestine. Abraham was a wandering Aramean. But Jesus and Abraham both travelled in community.

We may be surprised that Peter doesn’t leave Jesus after today’s story, because in our own day it seems so easy to leave people. We can choose our tribe. We can choose our friends. We can even choose our family. Why would Peter choose to stay with Jesus, after Jesus rebukes him?

Now here, I want to be careful, because there are times when we must choose to put up boundaries. There are times when the healthiest thing you can do for a relationship is to end it. There are times when, for the sake of safety, you need to create distance. I know families for whom it is only safe to gather when court-appointed officers are present. It’s painful and real. I always worry about preaching when the Gospel includes the line, “take up your cross” because there are people who have justified living in an abusive relationship by saying, “that’s just my cross to bear.” The Gospel tells us, crosses are not private. Even Jesus had help carrying his cross.
You don’t have to suffer alone.

Jesus’ rebuke of Peter today is specific. While it is angry, I would argue it is not abuse. He calls Peter “Satan,” the tempter. Peter doesn’t want to believe that Jesus has to suffer. Peter doesn’t want to believe that Jesus will die. It’s tempting, and Jesus has to say, “get behind me,” because the temptation isn’t the reality.

We are on the road toward Easter, and the road will be tough. Christianity is not a faith which denies or ignores suffering. Living in a way that witnesses that all people are beloved, means showing up when people are suffering, means standing up for justice so fewer people will suffer.

Jesus persistently enacted community in ways that defied the expectations of his day. He ate with tax-collectors and sinners. He invited women to be his witnesses. He touched and walked with those his society deemed unacceptable because of their national origin, their language, their religion or their sexual practices. Jesus spent time with those the world counted out. Jesus witnessed to a world where everyone belonged, where everyone was beloved, where no one was counted out. That’s why he was a threat.

I don’t understand how someone can follow Jesus and try to use Jesus to hold power over others. I don’t understand how someone can say they’re following Jesus, and then use their faith to justify suing a Christian organization which provides shelter to immigrants. I don’t understand how following Jesus could lead anyone to try to enact a bathroom bill to add fuel to the fire of transphobic and homophobic bullying in our schools. How can following Jesus lead you to cruelty toward your neighbor?

I think Jesus hears all of the awful political rhetoric, the hateful words that are so often spoken in his name, and wants to scream “get behind me.” If you want to follow, realize you’re following in a way of love, a way of justice, a way that does not lead to worldly power. There were some awful moments of bigotry this week, wrapped in a so-called Christian theology. Maybe we Episcopalians could use some stained glass with an angry Jesus. Maybe.

Learning from a Drag Performer

Last year I spent a great deal of time in the halls of the Missouri State capitol. I went with other clergy and LGBTQ+ leaders to fight proposed transphobic laws. I don’t know how effective I was as a witness, but I did witness one success first hand. A drag performer, who goes by the name Akasha Royale sat patiently with a state representative in cowboy boots. Most of us studiously avoided the opposing side. Akasha marched right over in full makeup and an impeccable power suit and shook hands. When she knew this gentleman would talk with her, she asked why he was a cosponsor of a transphobic bill. She took time to gently correct errors in his logic, to share her point of view. I was stunned when I saw them laughing together. Even more amazed when he closed his file and walked away. I asked Akasha, and she told me, he had decided to drop his name from the bill.

It took a drag performer to help me see, even when we’re angry, even when we disagree, Christians don’t disengage. We don’t dismiss our fellow human beings. We get curious, lean in, and show kindness and patience.

I am struck in today’s Gospel by what doesn’t happen. Peter isn’t cancelled. Jesus not only allows Peter to hang around, he eventually trusts him to lead the church. Perhaps we can only claim to be Christians when we know we have the capacity to be wrong. Perhaps we can only claim to follow Jesus when we know our need to be forgiven. Only when we know we often get things wrong can we understand the surprising persistence of God’s forgiveness and love. Only when we are willing to approach others with forgiveness can we say we are following Christ. Because with Christ we will always, always, belong.