Preached at Northridge Friends Church ~ March 18, 2017
Dexion and Rufus
Imagine with me, for a moment, a 2nd Century Roman man named Dexion. In his day, about 100 years after Jesus resurrection, Roman society was marked by deep class divisions. Dexion is a member of the Equestrian class. This means that he is a business owner and has money but he’s not super rich. He is respected among his peers, and, like many Romans of his day, he owns slaves. In Dexion’s case his small number of slaves consider him a good and generous master. Dexion is a good man in the eyes of Rome and in the eyes of all who know him.
Rufus is one of Dexion’s slaves. Rufus’s father belonged to Dexion too, and Dexion was fond of him. The father served his master well but the son . . . not so much. Rufus, known for being lazy and inattentive, ran away when he was a kid. With the aid of his aging father he was brought back into the household but his master never trusted Rufus again.
After his father died, Rufus again ran away. This time he stole money from his master and disappeared. Dexion was furious and insulted. He would never admit this, but he was also a bit relieved to be free of Rufus. His appreciation for Rufus’s father, his slave, did not extend to that slave’s son.
Janerus is a long-time friend of Dexion. They have known each other since childhood and now, well into middle-age, they each live near the other. Janerus, a money lender, is more wealthy than his friend and he has two slaves that he treats like family. Like Dexion, Janerus is well liked in the community and known for being a fair dealer which is a little atypical for people in his trade.
Janerus is also a Christian, a member of a small sect of people living in Rome who have the twin reputation of being wierd but generous. Generous with their money, time, personal resources, and generous of spirit. Dexion didn’t ask about his friend’s new religious habits but after a couple of years Janerus began to speak of it freely. Because of their friendship and because Janerus seemed to be living a life free of his kind of burdens, Dexion inquired about his friend’s “religious” life.
In time, Dexion would meet other Christians and hear bits and pieces about the kind of life they lived. Even though it sounded rigorous, the Christian life began to appeal to him. He met still more Christians and then he met a group of people called catechumens.
The word means “student” and these people were students of Jesus the Messiah but they had not yet been ritually washed (baptized) or allowed to take part of the most sacred parts of their worship.
Dexion found still more friends in this group and loved them and began to attend prayers with them. He enjoyed being taught with the other catechumens until one day he sees someone, with the rest of the catechumens, he did not want to see—Rufus. His runaway slave was on his way to becoming a Christian, just like his master. The peace and happiness that Dexion had experienced since spending time with the Christians suddenly evaporated. Dexion was not only angry to see his ex-slave with the other catechumens and the other Christians but he was deeply offended. His sense of honor was violated. This is not how things are done in Rome, among members of the Equestrian class. Romans simply did not cross societal divides like this one.
Janerus pleads with Dexion to stay, and not to give up, and because he so admires his friend, and loves him like a brother, he agrees to not to quit; and he stays, but only for Janerus’s sake. Time will tell if Dexion’s new found affection for Jesus and the church can overcome his prejudice and anger.
We don’t know what will happen with Dexion and Rufus, but this new community, where people of different classes, races, and backgrounds can be one, has its roots in,
Matthew 16:13-20
“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.”
May the words of my mouth and the meditation of all our hearts, be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen.
Something big happens in this passage. But what exactly is it? Our passage tells us that the Church is human and divine, but awfully human.
Jesus throws it out there. He has a ‘define the relationship’ moment with the disciples. He begins by asking them what the other people think of him. He gets a variety of answers, all of them good, but none of them right. But then he asks his disciples directly:
“. . . who do you say I am?”
“You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”
We could have predicted it. It was Peter. It’s always Peter. I feel sorry for the other guys. Imagine Thaddeus, believing the same thing, starts to speak but Peter’s booming voice overwhelms him in that moment. Or Bartholomew, this was his one chance to shine, but he made the mistake of telling Peter earlier that he though Jesus was the Messiah. Simon Peter, once again grabs the limelight. He gets all of the good lines.
But seriously, with this confession, something has changed and I think it gives Jesus a little thrill. He thrills to the fact that the disciples, even if just a little, are starting get the idea. Jesus’s Messiahship, the Kingdom of God, all of these are starting to come in to focus and Jesus is thrilled. So, with authority, Jesus declares to Simon Peter:
“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[c] 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.”
In other words, Peter just got a big promotion. And, like Jacob, after wrestling with the angel, he gets a new name. Of course, it’s not just about Peter and his name change. (There’s more on that to come.)
But, something even more remarkable has happened here. That something is the conception of the church. Formed of equal parts, human and divine.
The Big Debate
Some of you may be aware of the age-old debate between Roman Catholics and Protestants based on this story. In the broadest of terms, it goes like this:
Both Catholics and Protestants can point to this event as the conception of the church. This is where it all begins as Peter responds to Jesus’ question.
For the Catholic, Peter’s confession that Jesus is the Christ, is where the Catholic Church finds support for the papacy and apostolic succession (. . . the idea that every priest has been ordained by one who was ordained by one who was ordained by one who was ordained by Jesus through Peter’s confession.) When Jesus says that “on this rock I will build my church” the rock they refer to is Peter and it is through him, specifically, that the church is established. For the Catholic Church, Peter is the first pope and the beginning of the papacy as we know it. Pope Francis today stands in direct succession to Peter and this is foundational to how the Roman Catholic Church understands both its origins and its continued life.
Protestants, on the other hand, claim that Christ builds his church not upon Peter but upon what Peter says. It is Peter’s confession of Christ as Messiah and Son of God that is the foundation, or conception, of the church. This confession, which is made by all faithful Christians, is that which the church is built upon and not Peter himself.
Of course, all of us here would agree that both sides are right, right? I feel very strongly, both ways. Yet they are! Each affirm, though for different reasons, in the strongest way possible, the humanness of the church.
For example, even if you think that Jesus establishes the church through the confession, the Protestant approach, and not through the person, as the Catholics do, you have to admit that Christ starts his church with people. He does not send down angelic forces to get this church thing running right. Whether it is the person or the confession, the “rock” that God establishes the church upon is people. This church that Jesus creates with Peter via his confession is awfully human.
This sounds like it could be a problem, right?
To highlight this, we need only consider the irony of Peter’s name.
Jesus plays a game with Peter’s name. He starts off his life as Simon. But then he gets this interesting Aramaic name, Keffa, which in Greek ends up as Cephas, or “Rocky”. Peter is the strong fortress, the rock of security. Simon Peter is the tough guy, strong, outspoken, the first to jump out of the boat, draw his sword, get in a fight, and take one for the team. That is Peter to a T. Cephas. Rocky.
True to his name, he is the foundation stone of the church. But, more than any other disciple, Peter gets himself into trouble because of his impetuous nature. Three verses after Peter proclaims Jesus as the “Messiah, the Son of the living God”, the “Son of the living God” calls Peter, Satan.
Jesus calls Peter Satan. He calls him Satan because Peter doesn’t get what Jesus is doing. He doesn’t understand what Jesus is up to. He misunderstands the mission of God that Jesus, literally, embodies.
But it gets better. No, actually it gets worse. Fast forward to the night before the crucifixion. Peter is confronted three times about his association with Jesus and in the strongest possible terms Peter denies that he even knows who Jesus is. Rocky is crumbling. Rocky is faithless. Rocky is devastated.
And this is the “rock” upon which Christ builds his church. A rock that Jesus calls, the Satan. A rock that cuts and runs and denies Christ when it costs him something real.
Think about it, though. Jesus is building his church with human beings. Weak, fearful, stupid. Think about it. Jesus could have stayed around longer, or, more practically, he could have sent an angelic advance team from the heavens to establish churches all around the world. These angels could go out with the heavenly template and get things going the right way. They could blaze away at those who are hindering their mission. But Jesus doesn’t work this way.
Against our better judgment Jesus doesn’t use angels.
Instead, Jesus uses Peter, the crumbler, and Paul, the murderer. There is an enormous cast of characters with foibles and flaws and sins who God has used to build his church. He uses people, susceptible to corruption and failure. He uses people, like Peter, who are, at one moment, total cowards and at the next, complete heroes. This is how Jesus works. This is how God works.
If you remember, in John 21, Jesus sits around the fire with Peter and restores him to ministry by asking the same question over and over again, “Do you love me?” Peter knows how weak his affirmation must sound but Jesus drags him through this cathartic experience, only to reinstate Peter by telling him to feed his sheep, to feed his lambs, to shepherd the people of God. To be the church.
This correction, around the fire, is the hope for the church. We stay the church, only when we sit with Jesus around the metaphorical fire, and get corrected by Christ. Sometimes gently, sometimes he has to swing a little harder. But it happens, we are changed, and the church is strengthened. Jesus has to do this because the church is awfully human … awefully human.
Just as Jesus was fully human and fully God, so the church is fully human, awfully human, but Christ is within her.
Are we OK with this? We better be. There is no other church to have.
Built upon weak but growing humans, proclaiming the truest thing in the world.
But, let’s ask about the other side of the divine-human equation:
Do you realize, that the church works only if God is real and Jesus is risen from the dead? There is no church apart from these two things. Yet, I have to confess, that there are days I expect the church, and our congregation, to run on its own. I want Wheatland specifically, and Northridge, and the church around the world, to be a well- oiled, perfectly functioning, human achievement. But the minute that happens is the minute we no longer have the church because the church itself is sustained not by our confession (or by Peter’s) but by the very breath of God.
The Holy Spirit, the breath of God, gives life to us and our congregations. We can call ourselves Charismatics or we can call us Pneumatics. This awfully human organization is given life by the one who called into being, who Peter, AKA Rocky, described as:
“. . . the Messiah, the Son of the Living God.”
You guys know this. And, by you guys, I mean Quakers. One of the gifts that you have to offer the greater Christian community is the tradition of sitting still, listening, and waiting upon the Spirit. Don’t give that up. Teach the rest of us.
Eugene Peterson says this about this awfully human church:
Church is an appointed gathering of named people in particular places who practice a life of resurrection in a world where death gets the biggest headlines: death of nations, death of civilization, death of marriage, death of careers, obituaries without end. Death by war, death by murder, death by accident, death by starvation. Death by electric chair, lethal injection, and hanging. The practice of resurrection is an intentional, deliberate decision to believe, and participate in resurrection life, life out of death, life that trumps death, life that is the last word, Jesus life. This practice is not a vague wish upwards but comprises a number of discrete but interlocking acts that maintain a credible and faithful way of life, Real Life, in a world preoccupied with death and the devil.
He continues:
What’s left is this: we look at what has been given to us in our Scriptures and in Jesus and try to understand why we have a church in the first place, what the church, as it is given to us, is. We are not a utopian community. We are not God’s avenging angels. (We need the Quakers to remind us of this) I want to look at what we have, what the church is right now, and ask, Do you think that maybe this is exactly what God intended when he created the church? Maybe the Church as we have it provides the very conditions and proper company congenial for growing up in Christ, for becoming mature, for arriving at the measure of the stature of Christ. Maybe God knows what he is doing, giving us church, this church.
Maybe God does know what he is doing, giving us church, giving us this awfully human church. This brings us back again, to Dexion, Rufus, and Janerus. Consider this.
In the ancient world, there was no other place where Dexion and his slave Rufus could be in such proximity to the other. They did not play in the same sports leagues. They did not go to the same bar. Their kids didn’t spend time together.
In ancient Rome, and in all of the ancient world, there was no way, that their class structure and prejudice could be overcome. It could only happen in the church and it could only happen because the weak little church, founded on “pebbly” little people, crumbling people like Peter, was God’s hope for the world. And it still is. This weak, awfully human church is God’s idea. It is divine and it is awe-fully human. Full of awe.
Dexion and Rufus: Reprise
Imagine Dexion’s shock when he discovers that not only is he a catechumen, on his way to being a devoted follower of the Israelite Messiah, but so is his runaway-slave, Rufus. His first thought must surely have been, there is “only room for one of us here!” But, in time, slowly and surely, that changes. When the time is right the slave and the slave-holder descend into the same water and are baptized by the same hands. There is neither master nor slave in the water. There are only brothers and sisters.
When they come to the table to receive the bread and the cup, they are reminded that they drink of one cup. Slave and owner alike. No one stands over another person in the presence of the Eucharist. The ground is level. They are all in it together. It is awfully human and it is awe-fully human. Awe-inspiringly human.
With Janerus as his sponsor, Dexion discovers more and more about this Christian faith, built upon forgiveness, extending grace to the offender, hospitality to the stranger; and sharing all things. The slave sharing equally with the master, the master with sharing what he has with the slave.
Alan Kreider, a Mennonite historian, remind us that, for some people, like Dexion, the process could take up to three years, waiting for baptism and entrance into the church. And over this time of waiting his bitterness toward Rufus softens. He naturally saw Rufus as his inferior but even that began to change. The humility of Christ had somehow invaded his life and helped him see that he had no inferiors. He only had sisters and brothers; and those who had been Christians longer than him. Models of patience and of grace that he would now imitate.
This was heart work. Slow, deliberate, heart work. In his congregation, Dexion experienced in the 1st century, what Karl Barth articulated in the 20th:
Grace digs sin up by the roots. – Karl Barth
One understandable complaint against the Bible goes like this. Why is it that in the Old Testament slavery is permitted? And, in the New Testament why does Jesus not say anything about it and why does Paul not categorically condemn it? The OT and the NT make allowances for slavery. In each, masters are supposed to treat their slaves kindly, but this just isn’t strong enough is it? There are several reasons why Paul doesn’t condemn slavery. (There’s not time to go into those.) But, I think the most important reason for Paul is that he seeks to subvert slavery with brotherhood.
If Dexion could receive Rufus, “not first as a slave but as a brother”, then slavery would certainly come to an end, at least among the early Christians. And it did. This was something that only the church could do—because God did it, within them, among them, in the church.
Something only the church can do—because only God can do it.
The church, in our case the individual congregation, is that place where heaven and earth meet. Our humanity is immersed in God’s divinity and God works in and through us. Christ’s faithfulness is born in our midst and we are changed.
TANGENCE 