Today’s
gospel account [Mark 8:27-35] comes at the midpoint of Saint Mark’s Gospel,
more or less at the midpoint of Jesus’ public life. It also seems to be
something of a midpoint in the disciples’ own experience – in their gradual
growth in understanding Jesus’ true identity and in what that must mean for
them.
Mark
begins by telling us that Jesus and his
disciples set out for the villages of Caesarea Philippi. In other words,
they left their familiar surroundings and went again into pagan, Gentile
territory. Today, that area at the foot of Mount Hermon on Israel’s northern
border with Syria is known as “Banyas,” a variation on an older Greek word
suggesting a place sacred to the god “Pan.” Unlike so many other historic sites
in Israel, where a church stands to commemorate some biblical event, nothing of
the sort marks this site. The absence of any church or shrine and the
persistence of the area’s pagan name evoke its original character as a pagan,
worldly place. (In Jesus’ time, it had a pagan temple with a thriving fertility
cult. But, when I visited the site in 1993 the only activity there was an
Israeli army unit enjoying a picnic!)
Having
brought them to that pagan, worldly place, Jesus paused there to ask them what
was maybe the most important question they had ever yet been asked - the
question that in some form or other anyone who purports to be a Christian must
also ask and answer, who do you say that
I am?
Jesus
first asked what other people were saying about him. They didn’t have modern
polling methods back then. But, just as we would expect if that same question
were asked today, he got a variety of different answers. Then as now, Jesus
meant different things to different people, all of whom naturally tried to fit
him into their already existing ways of thinking. Jesus then revised his
question to focus directly on his special group of followers: But who do you say that I am?
Peter,
already anticipating his role as leader of the Church, answered for them – and
for us – You are the Christ (in other
words, the Messiah), the One anointed by God.
What
a wonderful, inspiring insight – one for which Peter has always been remembered
and honored! If only the story had ended
there! But the conversation continued. And, as the rest of the story shows,
Peter did not yet really understand what it actually meant that Jesus is the Christ, because he didn’t yet really
understand what kind of Messiah Jesus actually is. So, Jesus responded to
Peter’s initial insight with the seemingly strange command not to tell anyone about him, followed in fairly short order by his
even more surprising, shockingly stern
reproof to Peter: Get behind me, Satan.
You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do.
None
of which should this surprise us. Like Peter, we all want Jesus to be the kind
of Messiah that we want, and so we are all tempted to see him through a lens of
our own imagining, thinking not as God
does, but as human beings do. Every age and every culture, that has
concerned itself with Jesus at all, has done the same. So has every artist and
every author, who has portrayed Jesus. In Peter’s case, after all, there was
certainly nothing in what he had been taught that would have led him to expect
– let alone want – a Messiah to be
rejected and killed.
After
Peter, the first several centuries of the Church’s history featured a series of
serious disputes (and several ecumenical councils to debate those disputes)
about who in fact Jesus is – who he is in relation to God and in relation to
us. The complex formulas we recite every time we say or sing the Creed reflect
the way those disputes were eventually resolved and so set some precise
parameters to facilitate our fuller understanding of Jesus.
Every
time we recite those formulas, as we do here every Sunday, we acknowledge who
Jesus is and we commit ourselves to make the same journey in faith that Peter and
the disciples had to make. Who do you say that Jesus is? Who do I say that
Jesus is? Who do we together say that Jesus is? He constantly asks that
question of each of us individually and of all of us together – not because he
is looking for a novel answer (Christianity is about fidelity not creativity),
but precisely because he has already answered it for us with his cross and
resurrection.
In Saint Matthew’s Gospel, this same story is repeated but with an additional detail [Matthew 16:17-19], in
which Jesus promises Peter the keys of the kingdom of heaven, in his new role
not only as spokesman for his fellow disciples but as visible leader of Jesus’
Church on earth throughout history - Peter’s place being filled, generation
after generation, by Peter’s successors as Bishops of Rome, down to his 265th successor, our present Pope Francis, who next week will make his first-ever
visit to the United States.
According to a recent survey,
conducted by the Public Religion Research Institute and the
Religion News Service, some 31% of Catholics and 52% of Americans overall said
they had heard nothing about the Pope’s upcoming trip. Of course, he has to
compete with a lot of other news and noise and those who want to be the news
and so are making a lot of that noise. What kind of noise will the Pope make?
Like the first Pope, Peter,
his successor will speak on our behalf, articulating who Jesus really is and
what difference he makes for each
of us individually and all of us together, and for the world he loves so much
that he became a part of it and has left us to care for as our common home.
Just as back then, Jesus means different things to
different people. Just as back then, we all want Jesus to be the kind of
Messiah that we want, and so we are all tempted to see him through a lens of
our own cultural, economic, and political imagining, thinking not as God does, but as human beings do.
Amid all the noise that passes for news, Peter’s successor
is coming to America to remind us who Jesus is and what that means for each one
of us individually and for all of us together as his Church and for world he
has entrusted to us as our common home.
Homily for the 24th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Immaculate Conception Church, Knoxville, TN,
September 13, 2015.
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