Written on August 15, 2008

[For the August 24, 2008 lectionary: Matthew 16:13-20

QUESTION QUESTIONED by Larry Patten

The trailhead was at 7,900 feet.

The goal of our hike, Weaver Lake, was 2.1 miles away and at 8,700 feet in elevation.

The real goal of our hike was a question. After a third operation last December, my left knee wasn’t a happy camper. Since physical therapy ended in late spring, I've continued to feel pain. And I have arthritis in both knees. Our puppy Hannah, who turned eight this year, also has arthritis. In fact, we are both drug buddies since a perscription anti-inflammatory is part of our daily diets. I think her pill tastes better. So our question was, “How will Larry and Hannah feel after 4.2 miles of up-and-down mountain hiking?”

I suspect my wife’s question was, “Will those two ‘children’ behave?” Yeah, she puts up with a lot.

We felt great. Yup, I had some twinges and tweaks, but neither the “up” nor “down” increased any problems. Hannah cavorted on the trail and, as usual, plunged into the lake as soon as we arrived. And my wife was still talking with both of us when we returned to the car.

Question answered.

However, there was another question less easy to answer. Weaver Lake is a lovely granite-rimmed lake in the central Sierra Nevada. A few miles from a trailhead, and near an entrance to Sequoia and Kings Canyon National parks, it’s popular. The trail is short, relatively easy, and a splash in the lake represents a nice reward after a dusty hike. Which is all to say, there were quite a few folks on the trail. Most, like us, were there on a day hike. A few backpacked, planning to linger overnight. But everyone we saw as we returned to the car asked us the classic trail question . . .

“How much longer to the lake?”

Nearly anywhere along the mountain path I could confidently respond, “Less than two miles!”

But was the answer that easy? Was the hike minutes or hours or all uphill or rocky or confusing until that first watery view? Are you in good or bad shape? Do you have osteoarthritis in your knees? Do you stop and smell the wildflowers or is every walk through the woods a time trial?

Several hikers appeared to be teenagers on a first tramp in the mountains. A short walk from the trailhead, they already looked desperate. And they were going uphill while we were going downhill. Please sir, how much longer?

Maybe an hour? Only two miles? Whew. I suppose, even with map in hand, friends sharing the journey, and the promise of a lake, they wanted reassurance.

In Matthew 16:13-20, as the disciples tramped along with Jesus, he asked one of Christianity’s central questions . . .

“Who do people say that the Son of Man is?”

Easy answer?

Some people think so. I don’t.

Peter garnered the high marks (and probably jealous looks from the disciples) when he declared Jesus was “the Son of the living god.” Peter scored! And yet keep reading. Peter soon ruined his swell answer. By verse twenty-three Jesus will angrily yell at Peter for not understanding the fullness of God’s call.

Once I too was confident of the answer. Once, like Peter, I could have blurted out a quick response. But I’ve been on the trail for a while. I know more. I know less. My knees ache. My heart’s been broken. Along the way, I’ve met Buddhists and Muslims and admired their faith. I’ve been divorced. I’ve had people, even colleagues in ministry, deceive me. I’ve done dumb things.

At a writer’s gathering I recently attended, a workshop leader challenged writers to pay attention to what emotions or actions they avoid as they compose a story. With memoir writers, telling a tale about themselves, what does the author choose not to write about or, at most, summarizes the experience? With novelists, creating a story from “nothing,” what don’t their characters do or say? Does the memoir writer never talk about the painful relationship with a sibling? Does the novel’s main character always act or never reflect? The best writers are spelunkers, with words like flashlights as they explore the nooks and crannies of the soul, exposing what others might shield or ignore or rationalize. Honestly share with someone about your favorite memoir or novel and you will be talking about yourself.

Jesus’ question was not about a title, but about a way of living. Part of that, in the next verses, was explained as “suffering” for and with others. Peter was great at answering a question about a title. But was the real question and real answer Peter feared the most?

We like reassurances.

How much longer to the lake? Truly, I can’t answer that for another.

Who is Jesus? Truly, truly, it’s not a quiz about labeling the Nazarene, but more an invitation to search within.

in Peace,

Larry