Renaming Jesus

2026-47
sermon preached at Church of the Good Shepherd, Federal Way, WA
www.goodshepherdfw.org
by the Rev. Josh Hosler, Rector

The Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 16A-tr 2), August 23, 2026

Isaiah 51:1-6; Psalm 138; Romans 12:1-8; Matthew 16:13-20

Last Sunday evening, we gathered twelve youth here from three congregations: Good Shepherd, Emmanuel All Nations, and St. Michael’s in Auburn. We began our time with an icebreaker in which one person stands in the middle of the circle and says something about themselves. Then all those who share that same trait—like wearing black shoes today or having more than one sibling—must jump up and scurry to a new seat, musical chairs-style. As the game was winding down, Betsy called out, “My name is Betsy, and I believe in Jesus!” A mad scramble ensued, with everybody dashing for a new chair.

Now, in our society, it doesn’t need to take much courage to proclaim, “I believe in Jesus,” especially in a church setting. But what does it even mean, to “believe” in Jesus? And would that belief extend into situations where it actually required courage to proclaim? I think believing in Jesus requires courage not when words are asked of us, but actions. Are we willing to do the thing that Jesus would challenge us to do, and thus to demonstrate belief—trust—in the Way of Jesus? In short, are we willing to be the Church through our individual actions?

How would you even know what Jesus would challenge you to do? Well, we can start by imagining, based on the portrait the gospels paint of him, what Jesus would do.

Back in the ’90s, it was trendy for kids to wear bracelets that said “WWJD”—What Would Jesus Do? This was mostly in conservative evangelical circles, though I knew many Episcopal kids who jumped on that bandwagon. Maybe to some it felt like a bold statement.

Thirty years later, that generation of kids now has their own kids and, by and large, neither generation can be found in the church. Why not? It’s common to hear an explanation like this: “It became clear that they didn’t really want me to do what Jesus would do. They didn’t want me to welcome the stranger, to befriend the outcast, to feed the poor, to protect the rights of women and minorities, to accept my gay family member, to stand against violence, or to flip tables in the marketplace. That was too inconvenient for them. They would have preferred that I stay small and silent. So I couldn’t stay.”

Many of these folks now live in ways that do indeed reflect what Jesus would do—even without the church. Some have become nurses and doctors, and they heal people. Some have become relief workers, bringing food and aid to otherwise hopeless places. Some are mediating conflicts, or raising money for helpful causes, or putting their lives on the line in nonviolent direct action—all the things that the people of the church, you’d imagine, should be the first ones to do.

So here we are now in the late 2020s. Most of the people you know are not in church this morning with us. Millions of American Christians want to hang onto Christian faith while rejecting the church. How does that square with the Church that Jesus established? It is to be a community—a new creation together! So … who is this Jesus for us now, in these times? Who do you say Jesus is?

Those of us who grew up in the church developed our understanding of Jesus gradually. We may have started with the story of a baby born in a barn, who grew up to be a kind man who loved children. Then we may have heard that he died but somehow came back again, and that he still loves us today. Only later did we begin to hear stories of times when Jesus was clever, or angry, or sad—or laughing! And perhaps only as adults did we begin to tease out the name Jesus from his title—Messiah in Hebrew or Christ in Greek—and confront the question of whether Jesus might actually be God in some mysterious sense. Even those of us who didn’t grow up in church have no doubt absorbed ideas about Jesus all our lives from Western culture, where Christian identity—if not Christian participation—is still dominant.

I think it’s crucial to set all of that aside and approach Jesus with fresh eyes … frequently. It’s a challenge, but it can be done. It’s best done in groups of diverse people, where we must encounter ideas, experiences, and interpretations other than our own. That can happen on Sunday mornings right here. It can also happen in a pub, talking Jesus over a few beers. Or even in the workplace on a coffee break.

But it can also start individually. For instance, you can sit down and read one of the gospels straight through. The gospels provide us with four urgent thumbnail sketches of the life and times of Jesus of Nazareth. I guarantee that when you read the gospels, you’ll be surprised by something! And you’ll be confused or perplexed by something else.

Today’s passage from Matthew’s gospel is at the heart of that thumbnail sketch. [Jesus] asks his disciples, “Who do you say that I am?” Simon answers, “You are the Messiah—the Son of the Living God!” And Jesus replies, “You didn’t figure that out on your own.”

Well, what is a Messiah? First-century Jews didn’t all agree on this, but in general, the ancient prophets suggested that God would someday send a rescuer, a military hero, a successor to King David who would restore the earthly Kingdom of Israel. When Jesus says, “Don’t tell anyone this,” it could mean one of two things. Either Jesus is denying that he is the Messiah (and it doesn’t sound like that’s the case, from what he says to Peter), or he is saying that the Messiah will not do the things that people expect of him, so it may not be all that helpful a term.

Remember that Jesus first asked the disciples not about the title Messiah, but the title “Son of Man.” Slow down and look at this for a moment. For many years I just blew through it, knowing that Jesus was referring to himself. But what does “Son of Man” mean?

While the word “Messiah” shows up in the Hebrew Bible 39 times, the phrase “Son of Man” shows up 107 times, mostly in the Book of Ezekiel. In that context it can be translated, “O mortal.” So a Son of Man is just a man, who will die, as opposed to God, who most certainly will not! (Right?)

But a similar phrase shows up in a bizarre vision in the Book of Daniel, chapter 7. This part is in Aramaic, the language Jesus himself spoke, and it’s “Bar-Anash,” or “Son of Humanity.”

As I watched in the night visions, I saw a Son of Humanity coming with the clouds of heaven. And he came to the Ancient One and was presented before him. To him was given dominion and glory and kingship, that all peoples, nations, and languages should serve him. His dominion is an everlasting dominion that shall not pass away, and his kingship is one that shall never be destroyed.[1]

That still sounds to me like the supposed job description of the Messiah: to conquer and rule. But Jesus doesn’t leave it there. He will teach his disciples that the “Son of Man” must be rejected and killed—and then come back again, though I can imagine the general outcry from Simon Peter that drowns out this rather important point. We’ll save that episode for next week.

The point this week is that when Jesus asks a question of the class, Simon immediately sticks his hand up. That takes courage. His answer to the question takes even more courage. Simon renames Jesus: he assigns to Jesus the role that appears to him by this time to be both appropriate and inevitable. “You’re not just the Son of Man—you’re the Messiah!” He may say it with foolish bravado—that would be very much like him—or he may say it with a quiver in his voice, which would also be like him.

In response, Jesus renames Simon. “You are a rock, Simon! I’m going to call you ‘Rocky’—in Greek, Peter. I used the title Son of Man. But two thousand years of belief will be built on the way you renamed me just now. That will give you an immense amount of power. Be careful! The Church will leave a powerful legacy … for good or evil.”

So Jesus accepts Simon Peter’s renaming of him. Then he immediately shrugs off many of its assumed connotations. But Peter will still be the leader of this movement into the coming decades and beyond. And the Church will do a lot of good … and a lot of harm … because people are running it. Somehow, Jesus thinks that will be worth it. (Is he out of his mind?)

So, after all this … who do you say Jesus is? Don’t be afraid to rename Jesus for your life and our times. The title “Son of Man” will never go away. The title “Messiah” will never go away. But when we add titles, we add understanding. When Jesus became known as the Messiah, he shrugged off the part about military conquest. No doubt if you name Jesus in any way inappropriately, he’ll shrug off the parts that aren’t quite right. And he’ll help you place at the center of your life the parts of Jesus that are true and deep and everlasting.

Who do I say Jesus is? That depends on the day. But today …

I say that Jesus is the one who shows me both the easy path and the right path, heads down the right path ahead of me, and beckons me to follow. That way lies death: the death of anything that might come between me and the way of Love. As I walk with Jesus, he says, “Don’t fret about those times you gave in to the temptation to safety or selfishness. Don’t dream it’s over. You’ll never see the end of the road while you’re traveling with me.”[2]

And so I exercise my legs for going and my lungs for telling, and my heart for loving grows healthier and stronger as we walk. And I look around and see that we’re not alone on this road, Jesus and I: how could we be? We can’t walk it alone. The narrow door I struggled to fit through led to a path that has widened to a superhighway! All sorts of people are walking with us: heroes and scoundrels, saints and sinners, all going together through various deaths and resurrections. We’re all carrying the crosses we have willingly taken up, and we’re singing all the walking songs: happy songs, sad songs, comic and tragic songs.



Where are we going? We can’t see very far ahead to know. And then we round another bend, and I find that things have changed, and it’s time to rename Jesus once again so that others might also follow. And as we walk, Jesus patiently whispers to me the whole time, “Love! It’ll hurt you. It might even kill you. But love anyway. Because trust me—nothing else works.” Amen.

[1] Daniel 7:13-14

[2] With apologies to the band Crowded House.