Location, Location, Location

When Jesus came to the region of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, “Who do people say the Son of Man is? [Matthew 16:13, NIV].

One of the core questions of Christianity is found within the important Gospel lesson appointed for this upcoming Sunday [Matthew 16:13-20, the Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost, RCL, Year A]. That central question is actually the final of three questions offered to the small band of disciples who have been following Jesus primarily in Galilee, as he heals, empowers, and teaches those who have eyes to see and ears to hear [Mt. 13:9-16].

He has brought his merry band of men (and not a few women) to a curious spot, Caesarea Philippi—more about that piece of real estate later. He’s been on the scene long enough now that his name has gotten around. Wherever He is present, crowds begin to form. Somewhat of a local celebrity, He’s particularly popular among the poor and the lower middle class. He’s shunned and despised by the rich men north of the Jerusalem Temple district. The latter don’t like Him at all; they’re satisfied with the status quo.

Yet Jesus is curious not about popular impressions of him. Instead, He desires to see if the seeds of faith that He has planted within His closest followers is bearing fruit. And so, He asks them what others are saying about the Son of Man. They reply,

Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, Jeremiah or one of the prophets [Mt. 16:14].

Much, of course, has been written about the initial answers provided by the disciples. It seems that most of our Lord’s contemporaries—and perhaps the disciples themselves—are trying to fit Jesus within some recognizable box. Is He a healer, a prophet? As a close friend has said, “All too many then and now see Jesus as an unusual sort of vending machine. You put a coin or a prayer request in one side and think you’ll get what you want out of the other.”

In all fairness, one shouldn’t fault the crowd too much. Nothing like Jesus had ever come onto the scene. The poor and lower middle class have seen His actions and they have high regard for Him. They do not yet, however, see Him as the fulfillment of the Hebrew Scriptures. The common denominator of those named by the disciples—John the Baptist, Elijah, and Jeremiah—is not only that they are all prophets; they are also deceased [I know, I know, Elijah technically didn’t die, see 2 Kings 2:11]. Thus, while the crowd doesn’t fully appreciate who Jesus is, they do at least understand that for those departed prophets to be identified with the Jesus of Nazareth who stands before them, there must have been some sort of resurrection experience.

There is a certain bit of irony here. The crowd—almost all of whom are Hebrew—think Jesus must be some reincarnated Hebrew prophet from ancient times. Recall, however, that in last week’s Gospel lesson, the Canaanite woman—the outcast Gentile—referred to Jesus as “Son of David” [Mt. 15:22], a Messianic title. It seems that the woman outside the faith is a lot closer to the mark than are the Hebrew crowds who follow along after Jesus.

Are the disciples any closer to the mark than the crowd? Well, although they don’t know it—yet—Jesus has backed them into a corner. Having heard from them what the people think about His identity, Jesus turns and asks two much more piercing questions, “But what about you? … Who do you say that I am?” [Mt. 16:15]. And, of course, Peter, in his inimitable way, quickly steps forward and says, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God” [Mt. 16:16].

Those of us who want to elevate Peter to some extraordinary position based upon his being the first to call Jesus “the Christ” must be mindful of the caveat that while Jesus blesses “the Rock,” he stresses that Peter’s knowledge of Jesus’ salvific role comes not from within himself; it is a gift from God [Mt. 16:17]. Only then does Jesus allow the familiar “Upon this rock, I will build my church.”

Since that day in Caesarea Philippi, the church has continued to discover and communicate the identity of Jesus Christ. We have appropriately been obsessed with it. For example, take a look at both the Apostles’ and the Nicene Creeds. Count the number of words or lines in each that is devoted to descriptions of God the Father and God the Holy Spirit. Now count the number describing God the Son. That ratio gives you an idea that the primary question occupying the minds of early Christians was the Messiah’s incisive query: “Who do you say that I am?”

Peter’s confession that Jesus is Messiah is found in all three Synoptic Gospels [Mt. 16:16; Mk 8:29; Lk 9:20]. Yet, there are some interesting differences among the three authors’ narratives. For example, neither Luke nor Mark include a blessing of Peter by Jesus. Luke’s version omits altogether the reference to Caesarea Philippi. Mark’s Gospel indicates Jesus’ questions to the disciples took place “on the way” to that location. Mark, of course, frequently uses “the way” as a code reference for the journey of discipleship [see Mk. 1:3; 9:33-34; 10:52; and 12:14). Matthew omits the “journey” reference and moves directly to “the place.” Jesus’ questions flow only after they have arrived. For Matthew, clearly the place is important: location, location, location.

We will recall that Caesarea Philippi was located some 20 miles or so north of the Sea of Galilee. While it was off the beaten path of Jesus’ ministry, it was not at all off the beaten path. It lay along a trade route connecting Tyre (an area of current Turkey) to the West and Damascus on the Northeast. Much earlier it had been the site of a Baal cultic center, then in Hellenistic times it became known as “Paneas,” because the god Pan had been worshiped there in the famous grotto and spring—the latter fed one of the sources of the Jordan River.

The site did not merely represent “pantheism”; it was a center of secular power. Twenty or so years before the birth of Jesus, the area was renamed by Herod the Great, the puppet king who ordered the murder of the Bethlehem male babies born near the same time as Jesus. He built a temple there in honor of Caesar Augustus. After Herod’s death it was made part of the territory of his son, Philip, who enlarged the town as the administrative center of his government and who renamed it after Tiberius Caesar and himself. Finally, by the time Matthew wrote his Gospel, most folks would have been aware that the Roman commander who led the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 AD had returned with his troops to Caesarea Philippi to celebrate his victory. There he fed some Jewish captives to wild animals.

Location, location, location: Jesus’ question, “Who do you say that I am?” is offered within a strategic and important context. I think perhaps that Matthew emphasized the location of Jesus’ question because it so clearly shows the possible paths that might be followed by those of us who say they love Jesus. Placed as it is in Caesarea Philippi, Jesus’ question hangs at what amounts to a fork in the road. Once the disciples heard his query, they were required to commit to a path down one of three possible avenues. One might choose commerce. One might choose the world maintained by secular administration, by the dominant political parties and secular influences of the day. Or one might choose the avenue— “the way,” as Mark would put it—that follows the Messiah to a cross.

The powerful part of Jesus’ question is that it isn’t an academic query. If that was the limit of His question, one might correctly answer, “You are Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” [Isaiah 9:6]. No, instead, Jesus’ incisive query boils down to a matter of trust.

Location, location, location: For the followers of Jesus, where is your trust located? Is it within the lifestyle, prestige, comfort, and temporary respect that comes from careful planning and action among the world of commerce? Is it in the sort of advocacy that is represented by effectively organizing one’s community so that it follows the model of the secular left or right? Is your trust displayed in devoting, say, an hour or two on Sunday to Jesus so that we can then spend the rest of our available time worshiping society’s idols du jour?

Or instead, is the location of your devotion—your trust—centered upon the One who lived among us, who died among us, and who was resurrected among us in such a divine fashion that it made known the manifest mercy of the Living God?