The Rock of Rome

Scripture: Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost (Lectionary 21), A.D. 2014 A

Sermon:

Grace, mercy and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  AMEN.

Caesarea Philippi is a very strange place for Jesus to go.

It lies north of the Holy Land, by Mount Hermon, from which springs trickle southward to the Sea of Galilee and the Jordan River. One such spring was revered as holy by Alexander’s Greeks a few centuries before the time of Christ. They built shrines all around the spring’s grotto, dedicated to the pagan god Pan. Pan is that funny little creature with horns and the legs of a goat, who likes to play on the pan-flute and cavort with nymphs in raunchy little parties. He’s basically a god of debauchery, so it’s little wonder that old Greek soldiers proved so fond of him. They named the grotto Paneas in his honor, and the surrounding region thus became the Panion.

It wasn’t easy for the Jews of Israel to drive out those invading Greeks, and to do so they enlisted the help of the great rising power in the west: Rome. Alas, having gotten rid of most of the Greeks, they now had the tougher and more numerous Romans to deal with. Out of the frying pan, into the fire. If you’ve ever been reading through the Bible, gotten to the New Testament, and wondered why everybody’s suddenly speaking Greek and there are all these Romans all over the place—well, now you know.

One local fellow named Herod proved particularly adept at playing the bloody game of Roman politics. Herod himself didn’t have much of a Jewish pedigree. His father was an Idumean, descended from Israel’s ancient enemy, the Edomites. A generation or so earlier, Israel had managed to conquer Idumea and force their old foes to convert to Judaism. By cozying up to opposing Roman factions, Herod got himself appointed as King of Judea, and he married the last princess of the previous ruling family as a way to legitimize his reign.

How does such a man, having achieved kingship over an alien people by the skin of his teeth, manage to maintain his grip on the country? Well, first off, he brutally slaughtered any rivals to the throne—including his favorite wife, several sons, and at least one mother-in-law. Off in Rome, the emperor noted wryly that it was safer to be one of Herod’s pigs than one of his family. When Wise Men from the east came proclaiming the birth of the Messiah in Bethlehem, Herod did not hesitate to send assassins after the young boys of that town.

He also went to great efforts in order to cement his ties with Rome in the west. Rome’s power came from the sea, and so Herod built them a fine deep-water port along the Judean coast, and named it Caesarea Maritima—“Caesar’s place by the sea.” Herod was good at playing both sides. While he buoyed his Jewish credentials by expanding the Temple Mount in Jerusalem into the largest manmade structure on earth, he simultaneously built pagan shrines for his Greek and Roman benefactors. The Paneas, for example, go the full Herod treatment.

Time passed. Herod died. Jesus grew up. And Rome divided Herod’s kingdom amongst his surviving sons. Philip, the younger son, followed daddy’s lead in snuggling up to Rome. He expanded the Panion yet further, and renamed it Caesarea Philippi—“Caesar’s place from his buddy Philip!” And for some reason, that’s where Jesus takes His Apostles in our Gospel this morning.

Everything we’ve just talked about is hanging in the air there. Here in this gaudy place lie all the reminders of Israel’s oppression: pagan gods, Greek invaders, Roman overlords, obsequious pseudo-kings; false deities, false messiahs, false hopes. Caesarea Philippi is everything that a good Jewish rabbi should eschew. So why does Jesus choose this place to take His inner circle for a turning point in His ministry?

The first thing He asks them once they get there is, “Who do people say the Son of Man is?” That’s a dangerous question. In the biblical book of the Daniel, the Son of Man is a prophesied divine figure, a Messiah, a Christ, sent from Heaven. He is spoken of in ways that make it clear that He looks like a normal person—a “Son of Man”—but that He’s much more than this, more than just human. He may even be God. And the Son of Man, Daniel says, comes to topple a pagan empire using a rock from Heaven, and then turn said empire over to the saints of God.

Everybody knows this. Everybody is waiting for the Son of Man to arrive. The Jews are waiting for Him to come free them from Rome. Some rebels have already claimed to be led by the Son of Man, only to be crushed by Rome. And Rome herself has her own prophecy about a Messiah who will arise from Judea. So when Jesus asks, “Who do people say the Son of Man is?” He’s indulging in some rather treasonous talk—a spark in a powder keg, as it were. They tell Him that some say John the Baptist, the popular preacher whom Philip had recently beheaded, was thought to be the Son of Man, and still might if he were to rise from the dead. Jesus says to this, “But who do you say that I am?”

Wow. That’s pretty explicit right there. Jesus clearly identifies Himself as the Son of Man, as the prophesied heavenly Christ. And Simon, ever impulsive, blurts out with joy, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God!” This is the guy, Simon says, the one whom we’ve awaited for centuries! He’s the King, the Christ, the Son of Man and Son of God, come to set the world aright! At last! And Jesus proclaims, “Blessed are you, Simon, son of Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but My Father in Heaven.” So there you have it: outright claims of divinity and kingship from Jesus, the Christ.

Interestingly, we know the name of Simon’s father, and it’s not Jonah. It’s John. So why call him Simon bar Jonah, Simon-son-of-Jonah? It may be that Jonah means dove, and the dove signifies the Holy Spirit inspiring Simon’s declaration of faith. But more likely, it seems, Jesus is referring to the prophet Jonah, who in ancient days was sent to prophesy repentance to the wicked empire of Assyria, the enemies—indeed the archenemies—of God’s people. And the Assyrians did, in fact, repent.

“And I tell you,” Jesus continues, that from now on “you are Peter,” which means Rock, “and on this rock I will build My Church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it.”

Again, there’s a lot going on here in a brief passage of Scripture. What does it all mean? Jesus gives to Simon a new name: He calls him the Rock, which is Petrus in Latin or Kephas in Greek. Why a rock? When Jesus mentions the gates of Hades, He seems to be making an allusion to the holy Temple in Jerusalem. Jewish legend taught that the Temple was the capstone of a shaft leading down into Hades, the land of the dead. Thus the Temple was a sort of axis connecting Heaven, earth, and the underworld. Here it sounds like Jesus is going to build a new Temple, starting with Peter.

Of course, the Bible also refers to father Abraham as a rock. Like Abraham, Peter is given a new name. Like Abraham, Peter will found for God a great community. The Greek word for community is ecclesia, or Church. But there’s something more happening. Jesus has far-reaching plans at Caesarea.

Remember that when Jesus talks about Himself as the Son of Man, He’s using language from the prophet Daniel. And Daniel prophesied that a fourth great empire would oppress God’s people Israel. (Babylon, Persia, Greece, and Rome—that’s four.) Furthermore, Daniel promised that a rock from heaven would topple this fourth empire and turn it over to the saints. Peter, Jesus says, is just the Rock for the job.

I don’t want us to get too far ahead of ourselves here. The second half of this story will be told next week, when Jesus explains just what His being the Christ will entail. (Hint: it’s not going to be the glory and honor that the Apostles expect.) But even as Jesus tells them that Rome will crucify Him, He is promising that Peter will lead the conquest of Rome. He is the Rock who will topple the empire and turn it over to the saints. Not by the sword! Not by fire or iron or blood. But after the death and Resurrection of Jesus Christ, Peter will carry the Gospel to Rome—to the beating pagan heart of the ancient known world—and she will be turned over to the saints. Indeed, Peter will be sent to the true Caesarea, to “Caesar’s place,” out from Judea to Rome.

Just like the Assyrians in the time of Jonah, God will topple His enemies not with violence or vengeance, but by claiming them as His own. Yes, Rome will conquer Christ on the Cross. But then the Cross will conquer Rome for Christ, and build upon that rock a universal ecclesia called out from every nation upon the earth. In the Latin tongue of the Romans themselves, amor vincit omnia. Love conquers all.

Rome went from Caesar Augustus to Pope Francis. Who would’ve thought? Truly the Lord works in mysterious and wondrous ways.

In Jesus’ Name. AMEN.