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Who is Jesus?                        Mark 8: 27-38                   September 13, 2009

"It was six men of Indostan
To learning much inclined,
Who went to see the Elephant
(Though all of them were blind),
That each by observation
Might satisfy his mind."

So begins 19th Century poet John Godfrey Saxe's most famous composition, "The Blind Man and the Elephant."

Though the poem introduced the story to American audiences, the tale it describes is centuries older. It is an ancient parable, found in similar form in the teachings of Hindu, Buddhist and Muslim theology.

You've heard the story, I'm sure: A group of blind men (or, sometimes, men in the dark) touch an elephant to learn what it is like. Each one touches a different part, but only one part of the beast, such as the side or the tail or the tusk. When they are satisfied that they know what the elephant is like, they compare notes, and learn, of course, that they are in complete disagreement.

"It's like a snake," the man who had touched the trunk exclaims. "No, you're wrong, it's like a tree," argues the one who touched the leg. "You're both wrong," shouts the man who touched the tusk, "it's obvious, the elephant is like a spear."

Depending on who is telling the story, it either ends in a fight, an argument, or with the wisdom of an outsider who explains that all of the observers are actually correct. Saxe, our poet, adds a moral:

He writes,
"So oft in theologic wars,
The disputants, I ween,
Rail on in utter ignorance
Of what each other mean,
And prate about an Elephant
Not one of them has seen!"

In other words, Saxe points out, with his poem, what he believes to be a central truth. It is foolishness to have an argument about a God who has not been seen by any of those in the argument.

He's right, of course. None of us has ever seen God, because God cannot be seen.

We worship God, we praise God, "from whom all blessings flow," as we just did a few minutes ago in the words of our Doxology, but it is not because we have ever seen God.

We may have felt God's presence - just as the blind men felt the presence of the Elephant - but if that is all we have, then our image of God is just as narrow as theirs - and just as limited.

No, for us, as Christians, our experience of God wrests not with our sense of awe over the vastness of creation or our sense of power in the wideness of the ocean or our sense of beauty in the rising of the sun. It may be all of those things, but for us, as Christians, our experience of God wrests on our experience of God's saving grace in Jesus Christ.

Which begs the question that is raised in our Gospel lesson for this morning. The question that Jesus asks of his disciples: "Who do you say that I am?"

Jesus loved to ask questions. He asked them all the time. None is more important than the one he poses for us today.

The context of the question is significant. Before he poses it, according to Mark, Jesus has been really busy. He has cured a deaf man, fed 4,000 people, chastised his disciples for their spiritual shortsightedness and given sight to a blind man. And immediately afterward comes the Transfiguration.

As one scholar suggests, "this text, sandwiched between a blind man receiving sight and the Transfiguration, the sign of spiritual sight for all, is an opportunity for us to make a choice to see or not to see in a spiritual sense."

"Who do you say that I am?" Jesus asks.

The way we choose to answer that question is the key to our experience of God. The way we choose to answer is the key to how we see the world. The way we choose to answer is the key to how we live in relationship with the one who was willing to suffer and die so that we could have a clear vision of God.

Initially, Peter gets it right. He correctly answers Jesus' question. "You are the Messiah," he says; "the Christ, the Savior!"

But then, not minutes later, according to Mark, Peter gets it totally wrong. When Jesus explains what it means to be the Messiah - that it means suffering and death - Peter can't accept it.

It's easy to identify with Peter. To understand where he was coming from. It's easy to understand his vision of a Messiah who would overthrow the king, and would most likely offer his closest friends positions in his new government.

Think of all those folks who sacrifice time and energy and career aspirations in order to work on the campaign of a presidential candidate. They want their boss to win, take office and appoint them to a position that gives them a nice office in the West Wing.

David Axelrod, President Obama's senior advisor, comes to mind. I really like him. He's bright, personable and gives excellent television interviews. He also has a moustache, but that has nothing to do with my liking him.

Axelrod was a pretty accomplished guy before he joined the Obama presidential campaign, but I'm sure he would agree that his role now as a senior advisor to the president is satisfying beyond his wildest expectations.

Just think how David Axelrod would have reacted if, just before last November's election, Barack had pulled him aside and told him that he wasn't going to be President, but rather was going to get arrested, suffer and be put to death. And to top it off, then went on to tell him that David and all of his other friends and followers would also have to suffer in order to bring about the change that all of them wanted.

If we put ourselves in David Axelrod's position in such a hypothetical exchange, we can begin to understand what was going through Peter's mind that day at Caesarea Philippi.

Putting it simply, Peter was focused on what he had to gain from a relationship with Jesus the Messiah, not what he had to lose. My guess is any one of us would have done the same, had we been there.

Because in point of fact, most of us do that very thing when we think about our own answer to Jesus' critical question, "Who do you say that I am?"

But even though that is what we naturally do, it is one hundred-eighty degrees from correct. Precisely the wrong attitude.

When Jesus made it clear to Peter that his identity is that of one who suffers, he also made it clear to the disciples and the others who followed him that if they really wanted to follow him, they also needed to be willing to suffer for and with others.

So following Jesus isn't only about feeding and clothing those who need it, though it is about that. It's not just about healing the sick or calling sinners to turn their lives around, though it is about that. It isn't just about speaking truth to power and standing up for the powerless, though it is about that.

Following Jesus is about being ready to suffer for the people for whom Jesus suffered. It's about suffering together with them and with each other, and in that suffering, finally seeing just who God is, beyond all the labels that cause us to argue like the blind men who touched the elephant.

The Gospel may be good news, but it is not easy. Truly seeing God means setting aside what's good for me and allowing the needs of others to come first.

"Who do you say that I am?" Jesus asks.

When you get up in the morning, who do you that I am?

When you get to school, who do you say that I am?

When you're frustrated at work, who do you say that I am?

When you're dreaming about your retirement, who do you say that I am?

When you're filling out your tax forms, who do you say that I am?

When you're working out your personal budget, who do you say that I am?

When you're sitting down to write your elected representative who is about to vote on a bill to reform healthcare in the United States, who do you say that I am?

Jesus expects us to think about these things every day.

He also gives us the lens to use to look at these everyday issues: I am all about suffering, he tells us. For the sake of the poor and the powerless. And I expect the same from you.

The last verse of "The Blind Man and the Elephant" poem is this: "And so these men of Indostan
Disputed loud and long,
Each in his own opinion
Exceeding stiff and strong,
Though each was partly in the right,
And all were in the wrong!

Sounds like a description of the Congress of the United States, doesn't it?

Seriously, rarely does a day go by that doesn't include at least one moment when I find myself shaking my head and worrying about what our nation has become. It is frustrating to watch the level to which our public discourse has dipped.

We simply can't disagree anymore without calling names and questioning one another's motives and integrity. And people who call themselves conservative Christians are sometimes the worst of the lot.

I suspect Jesus would be outraged, were he with us today. His "Get behind me, Satan!" rebuke of Peter would be tame by comparison.

Repentance and prayer, I believe, are in order. So join me, as I pray the familiar prayer penned by Reinhold Niebuhr - perhaps the greatest theologian of the 20th Century. Let us pray:

God, give us grace to accept with serenity
the things that cannot be changed,
Courage to change the things
which should be changed,
and the Wisdom to distinguish
the one from the other.

Living one day at a time,
Enjoying one moment at a time,
Accepting hardship as a pathway to peace,
Taking, as Jesus did,
This sinful world as it is,
Not as we would have it,
Trusting that You will make all things right,
If we surrender to Your will,
So that we may be reasonably happy in this life,
And supremely happy with You forever in the next.

                                                                             AMEN

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