I see you… you are beloved.

Matthew 16:13-20

Now when Jesus came into the district of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” ¹⁴ And they said, “Some say John the Baptist but others Elijah and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” ¹⁵ He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” ¹⁶ Simon Peter answered, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” ¹⁷ And Jesus answered him, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you but my Father in heaven. ¹⁸ And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it. ¹⁹ I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.” ²⁰ Then he sternly ordered the disciples not to tell anyone that he was the Messiah.

On Thursday, the second day of school in Frederick County, I served as a substitute for an 8th grade Language Arts teacher.  If there is anything more unstable than the first day of school… it might be the second day of school.  I wondered what kind of lesson plan would be handed to me.  I wondered how these kids were going to handle a sub on the second day, they barely knew their real teacher’s name and then I show up, “Who is this woman?  Should we even bother learning her name?”

This teacher was wise, though.  Even in her absence, she encouraged her students to reveal themselves to her in writing.  She left an assignment beginning with the prompt: “What I wish that my teacher knew about me is…” She wasn’t just interested in names and memorizing the seating chart for each class.  She wanted them to write an essay about themselves on day two.  To put it into the language of the gospel “Who do you say that you are?”  

A few of the kids picked up their pen, focused on the paper, and began writing with energy.  They seemed to have something to say.  Maybe they knew themselves well?  Maybe they wanted to curate their teacher’s impression of them from the beginning?  Maybe they were inspired by the opportunity to be known?

Other kids asked… 
“Is this for a grade?”  
“What am I supposed to write?” 
“There is nothing interesting about me.  I’m a pretty boring person.”
“I don’t want my teacher to know anything about me.  Can I write that?”

There were many attempts at evasion, escape, stalling, distracting.  I finally said, “Yes, treat this assignment as graded.  Write your truth.  If you cannot think of anything interesting to write, imagine what you best friend would say about you.  And even if you write nothing, and hand in a blank piece of paper, the absence of an essay will give your teacher some information about who you are.”  

Rabbi Jesus gave an assignment to his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?”  I began to imagine the disciples as 8th graders.
“Rabbi, is this for a grade?”  
“I don’t talk to anyone and you are not even trending on TikTok.”
“Ummmm… duh, you are a Rabbi?”
“IDK.” 

Maybe James and John, the sons of thunder, got brave and offered up, “Some say John the Baptist.  I heard someone say Elijah, maybe Jeremiah or one of the prophets?”

“Okay,” Jesus accepts their answer.  “Now for extra credit, who do YOU say that I am?”  

Peter’s hand shoots into the air as his answer tumbles out, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God.” All the other disciples roll their eyes.

Jesus looks at Peter with love.  Peter is a man open to revelation.  Peter can know something without evidence presented to his senses, but rather knowledge gifted from a deep connection with Holy Spirit whispers and feelings from his gut.  “Peter, you are blessed.  Peter, you see me and I see you.  You are a rock of stability.  Peter, upon you we will be able to build a solid gathering of people, a church.”

Often, we learn more about someone based on how they see us.  We learn how much a person can look past their own lenses or biases or fears and really get curious and compassionate enough to see us.  When someone sees us and really knows us, we trust them. Sometimes, others can see us better than we can see ourselves.  

What if Jesus is asking about his identity because he is feeling confused, lost, overwhelmed, and wondering how others see him?  What if he is asking for group discernment, not as a pop quiz to prove their faith?  Poor Jesus, we interpret every one of these Gospel stories as if he is God who knows all.  Imagine instead that he is a human being full of doubt and hope, fear and love.  (Just like us)

I imagine Jesus walking along the road, thinking, “If I am the son of God… I don’t turn stones to bread, I don’t tempt angels to rescue me from death, I don’t establish myself as ruler of the nations… If I am the son of God… am I the son of God?  Everyone wants a piece of me!  Everywhere I go the people cry out for healing and the authorities plot to kill me.  Who am I?”  

Sometimes we need other people to see us, heal us with their vision, help us reassemble our identity with all of its messy edges and incongruent parts.  On Saturday I had lunch with two dear friends from my first parish, Trinity Church in Towson, MD.  A mother and a daughter that I first met over 20 years ago.  And even though we hadn’t seen each other in at least a decade, I felt seen.  I didn’t ask the question, “Who do you say that I am?”  But in communion across an altar of salad and sandwiches, we saw each other and affirmed each other’s identity.   It was a blessing (and a grief) to be seen, held, beloved.  I learned that my long ago companions are still close to my heartbeat.  They are rocks of deep stability and love.  They are able to stay present, compassionate, open, soft, and welcoming.  I hope they felt seen and beloved by me.  Together, we built church because we saw each other with love.  We became Christ at the altar of our lunch table.

Do you want to be seen today?  Or maybe today is not a good day, and you need to pull the covers over your head and hide?  It’s okay, you can take your time. Whenever you are ready to be seen, I invite you to share a meal with someone you trust to hear your essay “What I wish you knew about me is…”  I invite you to share a cup of tea with someone who can tell you, “I know you and you are beloved,” with their knowing gaze.  Ask someone who is a stable rock in your foundation, “Who do you say that I am?”

And, my beloved, as you wander through your day, I invite you to let others know that you see them.  Let your gaze say, “Beloved” to everyone you meet.  And if there is someone you know journeying through life changes, invite them to lunch, to the altar of communion and re-member them with your love.  Do this in remembrance of Jesus and church is made upon the rock of your love.