“But turning and seeing his disciples…” (Mark 8.33a).
Jesus has given sight to those who could not see. Refused to give signs to prove who he is. Heard Peter declare him to be the Anointed One. This is what everyone expects and wants isn’t it: captives freed, those cannot go forward given the ability to run, the hungry fed. Then he goes off-brand, off message.
Mark, in the mysterious way of this Gospel, tell us that at Peter’s words, Jesus turned and looked at his disciples. The words are participles; so, we’re kept within the action, within the moment. Peter has pulled Jesus to the side, perhaps off into the shade beside the road while the others stand a little ways away, whispering to one another, waiting.
Peter’s words are not evil words, are they? He’s just trying to get Jesus to realize what he’s saying, that he’s lost the narrative. It’s not odd for Jesus to say weird, confusing stuff. But, this? Hey, Peter says, I get it. You’re trying to get us thinking about things in a new way. But this idea that you…, I mean, you’re the One. You can’t go around talking about dying. What are people going to say?
Jesus, perhaps, is tempted. The desert days come back to him: this doesn’t have to go this way. Humanity isn’t going to get this. They aren’t going to embrace this message. They’re going to kill him. And redemption will come the hard way.
What would be wrong with doing this the easier way? He could turn a mountain of stones into bread. He could march into Jerusalem, no into Rome and take over. Cure everyone’s ills. Fix everyone’s problems. Everyone who followed him would be rich and important and powerful.
It would be so easy.
Then, turning and looking, he sees the faces of those who have been following him since the beginning. They’re too far away to hear what’s being said, but close enough that he can see the creases in-between their eyes, the wrinkles on their brow, the frown lines around their lips. The afternoon sunlight spotlighting them for his gaze.
And something there hardens his resolve, helps him brush off the temptation like the flies around his face. No, he thinks. No, that’s not the way. That isn’t what they, the town around them, or the world needs.
What was it, do you think? What did he see in those faces?
What do we see? When we look up at the faces in our lives, what do we see in them? Are they afraid, confused? Are they looking and longing for something they can’t see? Are they hungry for something beyond the impermanence of this world? Are they aching for something, anything, that explains the precariousness of the world?
More important, perhaps, than what we see: what do we say?
Christ our wilderness companion, it would be so much easier if the answers were simple, if there were a script to follow to happiness and a trouble-free life. It can be so tempting to follow words that seem to make this all so easy. And the way you walk is difficult, strange, and scary. Give us the courage to walk with you through these wilderness days. Help us to see those around us, and encourage them on this way.