Sunday: 15th Sunday after Pentecost
Reading: Mark 8:27-38
Preacher: S. James Steen

Last Sunday I had the privilege of presiding at the marriage of my son, Jeremy, and his bride, Kelley. As most of you know, I like to think of myself as very open to new ideas and ways of doing things. But in the months leading up to the wedding, more than once I found myself challenged by ideas that Jeremy and Kelley had for the ceremony. As I confided some of my misgivings to a colleague whom I consider much more conservative than I, it was very helpful when he said, "Well, the way I look at this is that if the wedding is in my church, I call the shots; but if it's elsewhere, almost anything goes."

After that, I mostly relaxed and was even amused when informed that the ring bearer would be Jeremy and Kelley's beloved Weimaraner, Leo. And I must say that Leo did himself proud! Looking back on the event, the wedding, complete with vows written by the couple - and very different from those in the Prayer Book - was a beautiful affair, and, perhaps more importantly, it had great meaning for the couple being married.

Today's Gospel Reading raises what is arguably the most important question in the New Testament. "Who do you say that I am?" It's no accident that we find this question in all three Synoptic Gospels: Matthew, Mark, and Luke. In Mark, which we're reading this year, Jesus first prepares his disciples by asking them who people are saying that he is. Then, he goes in for the kill and hits them with, "Who do you say that I am." At first they answer easily, like there's nothing to it, "You're the Messiah." It's like the father of the groom being asked, "Hey Dad, will you marry us?" "Of course, son. I'd be honored." But that was before I knew about the vows and the dog. And the facile response of the disciples comes before they know how Jesus views his role as the Messiah. But when he starts talking about having to suffer and die, those disciples, and especially Peter, aren't about to hitch their wagons to this mule. No way! Peter rebukes Jesus for offering an heretical view of Messiahship, and Jesus rebukes Peter for his obtuseness. It's only gradually that the disciples are able to adjust their image of the Messiah and accept Jesus' understanding of his role as valid.

I more and more appreciate how true to life this story of Jesus and his disciples is. Yes, opening our minds to new ideas is difficult, but it's something of which we are all capable. Mark is clearly aware of both the difficulty and the possibility as he moves us through the story with amazing skill. Before Jesus pops the challenging question, he performs a total of ten miracles. People have to be prepared for a question such as Jesus is planning to ask. Then, just before the question comes, Jesus heals a blind man, but with difficulty. At first the man can't see very well; so Jesus tries again, now it works. The Blind man is just like the disciples who aren't quite ready to see things as they are.

But later on, after Jesus has foretold his death three times and the truth has had time to sink in, then the disciples can see clearly, and Mark gives us another miracle involving a blind man. This time it's the story of Bartimaeus, the blind beggar. Not only does this second blind person regain his sight immediately, unlike the other people whom Jesus had healed and sent home with instructions to keep silent, "Bartimaeus regains his sight and follows Jesus "in the way"-the way of the cross, a story that begins in the very next sentence."1

Sharon Daloz Parks, a writer for whom I have enormous respect, has said that one of the chief roles of the church is to give people the tools to move from a childhood faith to an adult faith. That's what is being asked of the disciples, and it's the implicit challenge to all of us in Jesus' question, "Who do you say that I am?" In her view, we are called to move from a faith that relies on the authority of others to a mature faith that we can claim for ourselves. In order to get from one to the other, we must navigate the abyss of knowing that nothing is certain and move beyond it to a place of commitment. Daloz Parks believes that this is faith.

This, too, is what is going on with the disciples. They are scared to death that if they give up their image of Jesus as the miracle-working hero - Superman - they will be left in the abyss of total relativism. They have to be helped in their journey by Jesus increasingly teaching them what he up to and what discipleship demands. For us, as for the disciples, his going through the abyss of despair and death, then resurrection and new life, is an apt metaphor for how we may experience coming to a deeper, more adult answer to the question of who Jesus is for us.

Daloz Parks claims that in moving toward a deeper faith, nothing is more important than to participate in a mentoring community, a community where we all serve as mentors to one another. I love this idea. Here is what she says about mentors:
Mentors recognize us. Mentors see us just as we are, but they also see us as we may become, as we cannot yet see ourselves. They hold the promise of what we can be.
Mentors provide support, sometimes very practical support.
Mentors provide challenge, well-timed challenge.
Mentors inspire us, help us to dream, to discern and to claim our vocation.

People often say that a core value of St. Paul & the Redeemer is that we give one another permission to be who we are. That's crucial to being a mentoring community. Also crucial is helping one another become more than we are now. I know that you've mentored me in both these ways, and it means a great deal. As we begin a new fall, I encourage you to think about this, to keep the image of a mentoring community in your vision, to consider the ways you mentor others here and to give thanks for those who mentor you toward a deeper, more mature faith.

Amen.

¹http://wiki.faithfutures.org/index.php?title=Proper_24B