Consecration of the Church

ENTRANCE INTO THE LITURGICAL YEAR:
•Week of the Consecration of the Church (2017)

+Nov 5 – SUNDAY CONSECRATION OF THE CHURCH
Book of Offering, page 7 Hebrew 9:1-12 Matthew 16:13-20

Letter to the Hebrews 9,1-12.
Even the first covenant had regulations for worship and an earthly sanctuary.
For a tent was constructed, the first one, in which were the lampstand, the table, and the bread of the Presence; this is called the Holy Place.
Behind the second curtain was a tent called the Holy of Holies.
In it stood the golden altar of incense and the ark of the covenant overlaid on all sides with gold, in which there were a golden urn holding the manna, and Aaron’s rod that budded, and the tablets of the covenant;
above it were the cherubim of glory overshadowing the mercy-seat. Of these things we cannot speak now in detail.
Such preparations having been made, the priests go continually into the first tent to carry out their ritual duties;
but only the high priest goes into the second, and he but once a year, and not without taking the blood that he offers for himself and for the sins committed unintentionally by the people.
By this the Holy Spirit indicates that the way into the sanctuary has not yet been disclosed as long as the first tent is still standing.
This is a symbol of the present time, during which gifts and sacrifices are offered that cannot perfect the conscience of the worshipper,
but deal only with food and drink and various baptisms, regulations for the body imposed until the time comes to set things right.
But when Christ came as a high priest of the good things that have come, then through the greater and perfect tent (not made with hands, that is, not of this creation),
he entered once for all into the Holy Place, not with the blood of goats and calves, but with his own blood, thus obtaining eternal redemption.

Exegesis
[9:1–10] The regulations for worship under the old covenant permitted all the priests to enter the Holy Place (Heb 2:6), but only the high priest to enter the Holy of Holies and then only once a year (Heb 9:3–5, 7). The description of the sanctuary and its furnishings is taken essentially from Ex 25–26. This exclusion of the people from the Holy of Holies signified that they were not allowed to stand in God’s presence (Heb 9:8) because their offerings and sacrifices, which were merely symbols of their need of spiritual renewal (Heb 9:10), could not obtain forgiveness of sins (Heb 9:9).

[9:2] The outer one: the author speaks of the outer tabernacle (Heb 9:6) and the inner one (Heb 9:7) rather than of one Mosaic tabernacle divided into two parts or sections.

[9:3] The second veil: what is meant is the veil that divided the Holy Place from the Holy of Holies. It is here called the second, because there was another veil at the entrance to the Holy Place, or “outer tabernacle” (Ex 26:36).

[9:4] The gold altar of incense: Ex 30:6 locates this altar in the Holy Place, i.e., the first tabernacle, rather than in the Holy of Holies. Neither is there any Old Testament support for the assertion that the jar of manna and the staff of Aaron were in the ark of the covenant. For the tablets of the covenant, see Ex 25:16.

[9:5] The place of expiation: the gold “mercy seat” (Greek hilastērion, as in Rom 3:25), where the blood of the sacrificial animals was sprinkled on the Day of Atonement (Lv 16:14–15). This rite achieved “expiation” or atonement for the sins of the preceding year.

[9:6] In performing their service: “the priestly services that had to be performed regularly in the Holy Place or outer tabernacle included burning incense on the incense altar twice each day (Ex 30:7), replacing the loaves on the table of the bread of offering once each week (Lv 24:8), and constantly caring for the lamps on the lampstand (Ex 27:21).

[9:7] Not without blood: blood was essential to Old Testament sacrifice because it was believed that life was located in the blood. Hence blood was especially sacred, and its outpouring functioned as a meaningful symbol of cleansing from sin and reconciliation with God. Unlike Hebrews, the Old Testament never says that the blood is “offered.” The author is perhaps retrojecting into his description of Mosaic ritual a concept that belongs to the New Testament antitype, as Paul does when he speaks of the Israelites’ passage through the sea as a “baptism” (1 Cor 10:2).

[9:9] The present time: this expression is equivalent to the “present age,” used in contradistinction to the “age to come.”

[9:11–14] Christ, the high priest of the spiritual blessings foreshadowed in the Old Testament sanctuary, “ has actually entered the true sanctuary of heaven that is not of human making (Heb 9:11). His place there is permanent, and his offering is his own blood that won eternal redemption (Heb 9:12). If the sacrifice of animals could bestow legal purification (Heb 9:13), how much more effective is the blood of the sinless, divine Christ who spontaneously offered himself to purge the human race of sin and render it fit for the service of God (Heb 9:14).

[9:11] The good things that have come to be: the majority of later manuscripts here read “the good things to come”; cf. Heb 10:1.

Holy Gospel of Jesus Christ according to Saint Matthew 16,13-20.
When Jesus came into the district of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, ‘Who do people say that the Son of Man is?’
And they said, ‘Some say John the Baptist, but others Elijah, and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.’
He said to them, ‘But who do you say that I am?’
Simon Peter answered, ‘You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.’
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.
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.
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.’
Then he sternly ordered the disciples not to tell anyone that he was the Messiah.

Exegesis
[16:13–20] The Marcan confession of Jesus as Messiah, made by Peter as spokesman for the other disciples (Mk 8:27–29; cf. also Lk 9:18–20), is modified significantly here. The confession is of Jesus both as Messiah and as Son of the living God (Mt 16:16). “Jesus’ response, drawn principally from material peculiar to Matthew, attributes the confession to a divine revelation granted to Peter alone (Mt 16:17) and makes him the rock on which Jesus will build his church (Mt 16:18) and the disciple whose authority in the church on earth will be confirmed in heaven, i.e., by God (Mt 16:19).

[16:13] Caesarea Philippi: situated about twenty miles north of the Sea of Galilee in the territory ruled by Philip, a son of Herod the Great, tetrarch from 4 B.C. until his death in A.D. 34 (see note on Mt 14:1). He rebuilt the town of Paneas, naming it Caesarea in honor of the emperor, and Philippi (“of Philip”) to distinguish it from the seaport in Samaria that was also called Caesarea. Who do people say that the Son of Man is?: although the question differs from the Marcan parallel (Mk 8:27: “Who…that I am?”), the meaning is the same, for Jesus here refers to himself as the Son of Man (cf. Mt 16:15).

[16:14] John the Baptist: see Mt 14:2. Elijah: cf. Mal 3:23–24; Sir 48:10; and see note on Mt 3:4. Jeremiah: an addition of Matthew to the Marcan source.

[16:16] The Son of the living God: see Mt 2:15; 3:17. The addition of this exalted title to the Marcan confession eliminates whatever ambiguity was attached to the title Messiah. This, among other things, supports the view proposed by many scholars that Matthew has here combined his source’s confession with a post-resurrectional confession of faith in Jesus as Son of the living God that belonged to the appearance of the risen Jesus to Peter; cf. 1 Cor 15:5; Lk 24:34.

[16:17] Flesh and blood: a Semitic expression for human beings, especially in their weakness. Has not revealed this…but my heavenly Father: that Peter’s faith is spoken of as coming not through human means but through a revelation from God is similar to Paul’s description of his recognition of who Jesus was; see Gal 1:15–16, “…when he [God]…was pleased to reveal his Son to me….

[16:18] You are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church: the Aramaic word kēpā’ meaning rock and transliterated into Greek as Kēphas is the name by which Peter is called in the Pauline letters (1 Cor 1:12; 3:22; 9:5; 15:4; Gal 1:18; 2:9, 11, 14) except in Gal 2:7–8 (“Peter”). It is translated as Petros (“Peter”) in Jn 1:42. The presumed original Aramaic of Jesus’ statement would have been, in English, “You are the Rock (Kēpā’) and upon this rock (kēpā’) I will build my church.” The Greek text probably means the same, for the difference in gender between the masculine noun petros, the disciple’s new name, and the feminine noun petra (rock) may be due simply to the unsuitability of using a feminine noun as the proper name of a male. Although the two words were generally used with slightly different nuances, they were also used interchangeably with the same meaning, “rock.” Church: this word (Greek ekklēsia) occurs in the gospels only here and in Mt 18:17 (twice). There are several possibilities for an Aramaic original. Jesus’ church means the community that he will gather and that, like a building, will have Peter as its solid foundation. That function of Peter consists in his being witness to Jesus as the Messiah, the Son of the living God. The gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it: the netherworld (Greek Hadēs, the abode of the dead) is conceived of as a walled city whose gates will not close in upon the church of Jesus, i.e., it will not be overcome by the power of death.

[16:19] The keys to the kingdom of heaven: the image of the keys is probably drawn from Is 22:15–25 where Eliakim, who succeeds Shebna as master of the palace, is given “the key of the House of David,” which he authoritatively “opens” and “shuts” (Is 22:22). Whatever you bind…loosed in heaven: there are many instances in rabbinic literature of the binding-loosing imagery. Of the several meanings given there to the metaphor, two are of special importance here: the giving of authoritative teaching, and the lifting or imposing of the ban of excommunication. It is disputed whether the image of the keys and that of binding and loosing are different metaphors meaning the same thing. In any case, the promise of the keys is given to Peter alone. In Mt 18:18 all the disciples are given the power of binding and loosing, but the context of that verse suggests that there the power of excommunication alone is intended. That the keys are those to the kingdom of heaven and that Peter’s exercise of authority in the church on earth will be confirmed in heaven show an intimate connection between, but not an identification of, the church and the kingdom of heaven.

[16:20] Cf. Mk 8:30. Matthew makes explicit that the prohibition has to do with speaking of Jesus as the Messiah; see note on Mk 8:27–30.

Homily
“But who do you say that I am?”
Let me tell you some of the answers I’ve heard or read. My personal Lord and Savior. The Son of God. God incarnate. He’s my life, the song I sing, my everything. Buddy, brother, friend, homeboy. Rock, comforter, coach. Teacher. Example. The copilot next to me. The list could go on and on.
At some point or another we’ve probably all been told who Jesus is. Maybe you heard it from priests, teachers, parents, friends, or prayer groups. Maybe you read it in books, or on bumper stickers. Maybe you saw it on Facebook, read it on the internet, or heard it in a song. Some of the answers may have been helpful. Some were not. Some were just plain silly and some may have even been hurtful and destructive. Regardless, the question remains.
By now most of you know me well enough to know that I don’t intend to answer that question for you. I can’t. Each of us must answer it for ourselves. It is not, however, a theology or Bible exam. If anything it is an examination of our own lives.
I don’t think Jesus is asking us to just parrot back the answers we’ve heard or read. Maybe that’s why he pushes the disciples to move from what they are hearing around them – John the Baptist, Elijah, Jeremiah, or one of the prophets – to what they are hearing within themselves. “But who do you say that I am?”
This is not an easy question. I wonder if we sometimes too readily accept and settle for “Sunday Jesus” answers. You know, the easy, feel good, sentimental ones. The problem is life isn’t always easy, feel good, or sentimental. It’s one thing to say who Jesus is here in Uvalde, Texas, at St. Philip’s, on a Sunday morning, in relative safety and comfort. It’s a very different thing to say who he is outside of that. The question is never merely academic or abstract. It always has a context. Here’s what I mean.
• Who do we say Jesus is following the death of Michael Brown and the increasing racial tensions in our country?
• Who do we say Jesus is in the wake of James Foley’s execution, amidst the ongoing war between Israel and Hamas, and in the continuing persecutions by the (un)Islamic State?
• Who do we say Jesus is as Ebola spreads, as Ukrainian refugees cry out in need, as people in our town go to bed hungry, live amidst domestic violence, or work for a wage that cannot support a family?
• Who do we say Jesus is when a loved one dies, the doctor gives news we did not want to hear, or our life seems to be falling apart?
• Who do we say Jesus is when we are faced with decisions that have no easy answers, when the night is dark and the storms of life overwhelm us, when faithfulness means risking it all and taking a stand against a louder and seemingly more powerful majority?
• Using the context of these few examples what does it mean to say Jesus is my personal Lord and Savior, my example, or my brother and friend? What does it mean to say Jesus is my life, the song I sing, or my teacher?
Here’s my point. Who we say Jesus is has everything to do with who and how we are and will be. In some ways our answer says as much or more about us than Jesus. It reveals how we live and what we stand up for. It guides our decisions, and determines the actions we take and the words we speak. It describes the expectations and demands we place on Jesus. It discloses the depth of our motivation for and commitment to following him, a motivation and commitment that will be challenged by next week’s gospel in which Jesus invites us to take up our cross and die with him.
Jesus’ question isn’t so much about getting the right answer as it is about witnessing and testifying to God’s life, love, and presence in our lives and the world. It is less about our intellect and more about our heart. It is grounded in love more than understanding. It moves us from simply knowing about Jesus to knowing him.
In some sense there is no once and for all, finally and forever, answer. We are always living into the question. Who Jesus was when I was a child is different from who he was when I was in my 30s or who he is for me today. Hopefully, who he is for me next year will be different from who he is today. It’s not that Jesus has changed. I have. We are constantly engaging his question and in so doing we not only discover Jesus anew we discover ourselves anew.
Sometimes we discover a disconnect between the “Sunday Jesus” about whom we sing and talk for an hour, and the life we live the other 167 hours of our week. Our words and actions don’t align. There is no congruity or integrity. I don’t say that as a judgment about anyone but in acknowledgement of just how difficult it can be to recognize and live the truth that Jesus is “the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”
More than once I have fallen into the gap between my “Sunday Jesus” kind of answers and the circumstances of my life and world. Sometimes my answers were too simple, too small, too easy. They were no match for the complexities of life and the pain of the world. Other time my life has not reflected what I said about who Jesus is. Sometimes I kept quiet when I should have spoken up. Other times I was passive when I should have done something. Whenever I fallen into that gap it has usually been because I was trying to play it safe. That almost never works.
There is nothing safe about the question Jesus poses. How could there be? There is nothing safe about Jesus or the life to which we calls us.
Jesus’ life and presence among us call into question everything about our lives, our world, the status quo, and business as usual. That’s why we ought not answer his question too quickly, too glibly, or with too much certainty. It’s not a question to be figured out as much as it is a question to be lived.
– Rev. Michael K. Marsh