Matthew 16:13-20

Serving as pastor and bishop in the gem state of Idaho with its mountain ranges and canyons gives me lots of access to rocks. There are even small rocks in the high desert of Southwest Idaho where I live. The rock is such a universal and tangible object that it is a common metaphor in scripture.  The prophet Isaiah says, “You have forgotten the God of your salvation, and have not remembered the Rock of your refuge” (17:10).   And again, “Trust in the Lord forever, for in the Lord God you have an everlasting rock” (26:4).  And carrying God’s own message “Is there any god besides me?  There is no other rock; I know not one” (44:8).  In today’s lesson Isaiah reminds us that it is God who created us. We come from God.  “Listen to me,” the prophet commands, “you that pursue righteousness, you that seek the Lord.  Look to the rock from which you were hewn, and to the quarry from which you were dug” (51:1).  

One of my home pastor’s favorite songs for our high school youth group took its queues from one of Jesus’ uses of the image of rock. “You’ve got to build your house on a rock. Make a good foundation on a solid spot. Oh, the storms make come and go, but the peace of God you will know.”  

So, it should be no surprise that Jesus uses the image of rock in our gospel reading this morning.  As they enter the area of Caesarea Philippi, Jesus asks his disciples two questions. “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” And the second: “But who do you say that I am?” The disciples answer the first question by listing a few names from the past: John the Baptist, Elijah, and Jeremiah. Peter alone answers the second question, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” We know this is the right answer because the narrator told us this in the first sentence of Matthew’s gospel story, “An account of the genealogy of Jesus the Messiah.” Jesus confirms it by praising Peter’s insight and bestowing upon him “the keys to the kingdom.”

I think that Peter was the rock, the foundation, but only for a time. Peter was executed about twenty years before Matthew’s gospel was written, so who was/is the rock, the foundation then? Well, likely the foundation is now found in a community of people to whom God has revealed the true identity of Jesus as the Messiah, the Son of the living God. This understanding, this deep trust, in Jesus’ true identity, has become the foundation that continues to keep the church safe and strong throughout perilous times. 

I imagine that you have leaned on the confession that Jesus is the Messiah during much of your long history as a congregation—when your building burned, during the height of national and synod arguments about human sexuality, and during the global pandemic. What keeps us united as the body of Christ? What helps us remember who is the true source of healing, mercy, and liberation? Confessing that Jesus is the Messiah. What a gift, to put your trust in a God who walked among us, who loves you unconditionally, whose grace is overflowing.

As we continue along in our gospel passage, Jesus gives the assurance that “the gates of Hades will not prevail against it.” What’s this about? One of my favorite scholars [Powell] argues that what’s actually being portrayed here is the church storming the gates of Hades, which must give way before it. Take a moment to picture that: the church storming the gates of Hades. In other words, the church is on the offensive and will overcome the power of death and the devil in the world. 

With this image as background, I immediately recall the beginning of our service of Holy Baptism, when the pastor asks the assembly and those being baptized, “Do you renounce the devil and all the forces that defy God, the powers of this world that rebel against God, and the ways of sin that draw you from God?” And we together say, or shout, “I renounce them.” That is storming the gates of hades with our words. How we do it with our actions is not one big uniform act but a million actions each follower of Jesus takes in their daily life—in work, in recreation, with family, with friends, and even with strangers. You do that storming collectively as one expression of the church and you do it as individual followers of Jesus, living out your baptisms.

Finally, we hear the piece about Peter holding the keys to the rule of heaven. It’s this verse that has led to an image of Peter as a doorman in charge of the pearly gates. But really, Peter is given keys for binding and loosing things on earth, things that will allow people to experience the rule or reign of heaven. So, is this about sin and forgiveness? I don’t think so. I think it is about the discernment work of the church, determining what behavior constitutes sin, instead of deciding when sins should or should not be forgiven. One role of the church, at least according to Matthew’s gospel, is telling people when and how they should obey the Bible and when and how they should not obey the Bible. Jesus certainly had the authority to do this. He gave Peter the authority to do it. And that authority ultimately belongs to the full community that is called “the church.”

We confess as Lutheran Christians that we are freed by God’s grace; you are freed from sin and death and freed for neighbor love. The keys referred to in Matthew Chapter 16 direct us to moral discernment, to discern together how best to love our neighbors in our own times and places. Our denomination takes this moral deliberation and discernment very seriously and I’ve spent a great deal of the last week thinking about our church’s moral deliberations and social teachings.

I used our 1991 social statement on Abortion to write a draft letter to our pastors and deacons in Idaho so they can talk about Proposition 1 with their congregations. I decided to lead a two-part series on the Reconsideration of our 2009 social statement: Human Sexuality: Gift and Trust. I shared out a draft revision of the 1990 social message on Homelessness. I know that you are a congregation who has taken seriously moral deliberation about social issues. 

And now, you are discerning the next chapter for yourself as a congregation—and you will have many keys at your disposal for this holy discernment. You have scripture, prayer, our modern social teachings, your congregation’s own history, the stories of your neighbors, your own lived experiences with this community of faith, and even old teachings like Martin Luther’s Small and Large Catechisms. You are not the first to undertake such discernment. You have siblings in Christ across the synod and ELCA who are on similar journeys, siblings in Christ united in the same baptism who are praying for you.

Jesus meant to build a church, to leave behind a company, a people, because it is very difficult to follow Jesus alone. You need traveling companions on this journey to follow him: people to talk to, and argue with, people to love and care for, people who will believe and sing and pray on the days you can’t believe and sing and pray, people with whom to be signs of God’s reign, the church of Jesus Christ.

The church’s job, our commission, is to be a reminder of what we all need, which is that death does not have the last word about us: our institutions, our hopes and most precious dreams, our dearest ones, our deepest loves. Death does not have the last word. Jesus Christ does. It is our job never to forget that, to hold on to the promise for dear life, to remind one another on those days when life causes us to forget it, or doubt it, or disbelieve it, that the gates of hell will not prevail. Jesus Christ will.