Who is he?

My dad used to travel a lot. When I got old enough, I’d drive him to the airport. And then I’d pick him up at the airport.

Those trips gave us time to talk, 45 minutes of catching up on the trip, of last instructions before he left town, of just talking.

Because my dad had a couple strokes later in life, I can’t remember his pre-stroke voice. And of course, I can’t remember any of the specific things we talked about. But I remember the time together.

Jesus and his disciples didn’t drive anywhere. And they didn’t fly anywhere.

But they did travel together and talk.

On the twenty-mile walks from town to town, the disciples would be stretched along the narrow road, if there was one. They’d stop, and the 12 and whoever else was following along would bunch up together and Jesus would talk to the whole group. They’d start walking again and the group would spread again. They’d arrive at a town and larger groups would gather.

There were hills covered with sheep, rocky hills, small clusters of what we might call shacks, what they would call home.

The disciples got to know his voice. Thy got comfortable with who they thought he was. They were grateful to be in his presence.

+++

In the Gospel text this morning, Jesus and the disciples were walking from Capernaum, by the sea of Galilee, north about sixty miles. And Jesus said, “Who do people say that I am?”

It’s a great question. We ask it all the time.

They answered it in their context: John the Baptist, Elijah, a prophet.

And Jesus turned it toward them. “Who do you say?”

And they had the right answer. “The messiah”. The fulfiller of prophecy, the one who was to come, the hope of Israel.

We get the question, too. Who do we say Jesus is?