Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul, 29 June

 

    On the very same date, the Church celebrates two very different disciples.

Both are entirely removed from models of conformity and uneccentric holiness – indeed, they are wayward, neither reassuring nor tranquil.

One grows by accumulating uncertain experiences: a bit like Peter (stubborn and hostile), a bit like Simon (a disciple, but rarely so), a bit like Simon Peter (for and against, with one foot in each camp).

The other does indeed grow, but through an immediate fall from the ideology of being and feeling purer and superior to others:

in an instant, from the fiery ‘steed’ of the leaders and judges, to the common folk capable of listening and showing kindness.

Suddenly, from Saul to Paul.

The first, an Apostle through zeal and long habit [of coming and going]; the other through a direct Calling. Not through the laying on of hands by superiors of pious lives who ought to have known better than him.

An immediate vocation – it unsettles, turns one’s way of seeing the world on its head.

Neither of the two protagonists was a devout and obedient son: both were rather headstrong and impetuous, but each in his own way; one in an uncertain and diplomatic manner, the other in a sharp-tongued one.

For a long time, they were restless and even opponents of Christ.

 

Even in Proclamation, Catechesis, Animation, Pastoral Care and works of charity, we are beginning to realise that the starting point for evangelisation is not the usual, reassuring one, which merely teaches others [and conveys false certainties].

The aim is to raise questions that engage people personally.

And any initiative serves, first and foremost, to improve those who propose it – not the crowds who lack awareness.

This is the cornerstone of our attitude towards the full good and the fulfilment of every human being.

 

In the unity of the Faith, diverse gifts converge.

We are not called to be paternalistic, nor to act as firefighters: rushing to extinguish little fires that we do not even know about but which are burning well (only beyond the hood of our own fireplace).

The Church of the future also depends on our mindset.

The cornerstone of the living Tradition is belief in the world to come – not in spite of, but thanks to its differences.

Divine love manifests itself, makes itself present, and intervenes in many ways.

The sparks that feed the Flame of the Spirit are varied: they all illuminate and warm the world. … unless a wall of refractory bricks is built around them.

This sometimes happens on the ground, at the hands of interest groups. Through youthful cunning that has already become the norm, or old fogies fearful of losing the privileges upon which they float.

A landscape of cunning and still waters, already dead.

 

But in the personal Christ, even our insecurity opens up unexplored paths towards new worlds.

Every missionary knows their ‘certainty’ to be the fruit of a question mark.

An added value they do not recognise; the product of a primordial force that rises from the chaos of their own or others’ predictability.

The varied formation and even the turmoil of its many facets become a place of Peace.

A possibility of the Immense, rather than a pretext for retreat under threat of punishment typical of religious condemnations.

 

Whilst doctrine and discipline instil certainties and stubborn expectations that would have us travel only along pre-determined tracks, Faith allows itself to be guided by Providence as manifested in real life, which takes us by surprise.

An adherence, a creative Relationship – Faith – born of a mysterious Energy, always pure, clear, transparent, intact, uncontaminated.

A call by Name that brings us face to face with ourselves and God, without ever depersonalising us.

Only in this way can harmony be achieved. This is the church to come.

Indeed, those who are uncertain and cannot immediately draw conclusions see things through to the end: they do not abandon, they do not marginalise, they do not betray; they do not use their religious position as a weapon of blackmail.

They do no harm.

 

‘When the weaver lifts one foot, the other comes down. When the movement ceases and one of the feet stops, the fabric is no longer woven. His hands throw the shuttle as it passes from one to the other; but no hand can hope to hold it. Like the weaver’s gestures, it is the union of opposites that weaves our lives.’

[African Fulani oral tradition]

 

A tribute to the Polyhedron, not the Sphere. Diversity and Plurality mean space for each of us, just as we are. Expanded, not ‘better’.

Not homogeneous, not regular, not standardised. Even if the local chain of command does not want it.

A tribute to the Church? Not the uniform, standardised one. The odd couple, Peter and Paul, were not like that.

 

A tribute to the Church, a tribute to life.

 

 

Who I Am, the Keys, Faith, the Name

 

Who am I to you, and the Keys to the open community

(Mt 16:13–23)

 

    More than halfway through his public life, Jesus has not yet offered any formulas, but poses a challenging question – one that demands far more of us than the usual legalistic expressions.

Broadly speaking, the crowd may have likened him to eminent figures such as John the Baptist [who proved himself a stranger to courtly flattery] or Elijah [for his denunciation of idols] or Jeremiah [the opponent of the buying and selling of blessings].

But He did not come – like the ancient prophets – to improve the situation or patch up devotions, nor to purify the Temple, but rather to replace it!

Traditional imagery depicts Christ in many ways (as a philanthropist to atheists), the most widespread of which is still that of an ancient Lord, the guarantor of conventional behaviour.

He, on the other hand – to make us reflect – takes his disciples to a building site [in northern Palestine; Caesarea Philippi was under construction], far from the self-serving rhetoric of the ‘holy’ City.

 

The common mindset judged the success of life – and the truth of a religion – on the basis of success, dominance, wealth and security in general.

The question Jesus poses to his disciples reveals a novelty that upends the entire system: the Call is addressed to every single person.

It is a proposal that pushes boundaries, much like the symbolic geographical location of the capital of the kingdom of Philip, one of the three sons and heirs of Herod the Great: in Palestine, the point furthest from the centre of conformist religiosity.

The Face of the ‘Son of Man’ can only be recognised by placing oneself as far as possible from political schemes and the established order – otherwise we too would be unable to perceive his personal ‘light’.

In the community described in Matthew, there was indeed an experience of an ever-increasing participation of Gentiles, who had previously felt excluded but were gradually becoming integrated.

 

In our way of thinking, house keys are used to lock and bolt the front door, to keep out intruders.

In the Semitic tradition, however, they were rather a symbol of opening the door.

 

In Perugino’s famous masterpiece on the north wall of the Sistine Chapel, Jesus hands the head of the Church two keys: the golden key to Paradise and the silver key to Purgatory.

But the meaning of the passage is not about the afterlife – indeed, it is not even institutional in nature. In Hebrew, the term ‘key’ is derived from the verb ‘to open’!

The primary missionary task of community leaders is to keep the Kingdom of Heaven wide open, that is, to ensure a welcoming Church!

Peter must not emulate the archetype of the arrogant monarch, an image of authority standing in for the emperor.

Simon must take primary responsibility for welcoming those who are outside.

This seems strange by the standards of any ancient teaching, where it was assumed that God feared becoming defiled through contact with the world.

The Father is the One who dares the most.

This is why Jesus strictly imposes total messianic silence (v.20) upon the lips and the traditional mindset of the Apostles.

 

Peter and the disciples wanted to return to the familiar idea of ‘the’ Messiah [cf. Greek text] awaited by all.

A script that is far too ordinary, incapable of renewing us.

 

 

But who do you say that I am? Peter’s Faith

 

Distancing oneself from what one hopes for

 

    Jesus leads his followers away from the realm of the ideology of power and from the sacred centre of the official religious institution – Judea.

The Lord wants his closest followers to distance themselves from limitations and expectations.

The relative success achieved by the Master in Galilee had, in fact, rekindled the apostles’ hopes of (one-sided) glory.

The region of Caesarea Philippi, in the far north of Palestine, was enchanting; renowned for its fertility and lush pastures. An area famous for the beauty of its surroundings and the abundance of its flocks and herds.

Even the disciples were captivated by the landscape and the comfortable lifestyle of the region’s inhabitants; not to mention the magnificence of the palaces.

The reference to the setting alludes to the comforts generally offered by pagan religion; excessive prosperity that enchanted the Twelve.

Christ asks the apostles – in effect – what the people expected of Him. In this way, He wants them to realise the harmful effects of their own preaching.

A ‘proclamation’ that readily conflated material and spiritual blessings.

 

Whilst the gods demonstrate their ability to shower their devotees with riches – and a lavish court life that (precisely) captivated everyone – what does Christ offer?

The Master realises that the disciples were still heavily influenced by the propaganda of the political and religious authorities [vv. 6, 11], which promised prosperity [vv. 5–12; cf. Mt 15:32–38].

And Jesus instructs them once more, so that at least his emissaries might overcome the blindness and the crisis brought about by his Cross (v. 21), by the commitment required in the spirit of self-giving.

He is not merely a follower of the Baptist’s uncompromising stance, never inclined to compromise with the courts or opulence; nor is he one of the many restorers of the Law of Moses, with the zeal of Elijah.

Nor did he wish merely to purify religion of spurious elements, but rather to take the place of the Temple [Mt 21:12–17, 18–19, 42; 23:2, 37–39; 24:30] – the place of encounter between the Father and his children.

 

On this issue, at that time, the rifts were particularly acute, not only with regard to paganism, but also in the conflicts between Jews who had converted to the Lord and those who observed the tradition.

Indeed, the sacred texts of late Judaism spoke of great figures who had left their mark on the history of Israel, and who were expected to reappear to usher in the messianic age.

Even within the persecuted communities of Galilee and Syria, Matthew notes a lack of understanding and the great difficulty in embracing the new proposal – one which offered no guarantee of success or recognition, nor any immediate rewards.

(From the very first generations, it was realised that Faith does not easily align with our most basic human impulses: indeed, it is disconcerting, given our obvious perspectives and instincts).

Thus the Master contradicts Peter himself [vv. 20, 23], whose view remained tied to the conformist and populist idea of ‘the’ [vv. 16, 20: ‘that’] expected Messiah.

 

In short, the leader of the apostles – so weak in faith – must stop pointing out to Christ which path to follow ‘behind’ him [v. 23], thereby leading him astray!

Simon must start afresh as a disciple; he must stop laying out for everyone well-trodden and opportunistic paths, hijacking God in God’s own name.

The Lord is the One who dares the most.

 

 

A special note on the subject of the Name:

 

Whilst in our culture it is often merely a label, amongst Eastern peoples the name is one and the same with the person, and designates them in a special way.

As can be seen, for example, in the ‘second’ commandment, the power of the Name carries great weight: it is a matter of knowing the (divine) Subject in essence and in the meaning of action; almost a taking hold of His power.

Even in our own tradition of prayer, spirituality and mysticism, the proper Name (e.g. Jesus) has often been regarded as almost an auditory icon of the person, embodying their virtues; evocative of their presence and power.

In ancient cultures, uttering a name meant being able to grasp the seed, the meaningful and all-encompassing core of the figure in question.

Not infrequently, even in our own way of thinking, it has been seen as expressing an omen, a mandate, a wish, a blessing, a vocation, a destiny, a task, a calling, a mission [nomen (est) omen].

But this is where the difference between a sacred mindset and Faith becomes apparent. In religions, the proper name that the master or founder bestows upon the disciple is a sort of signpost: anyone lacking the insight, fortune, strength or courage to fulfil it would diminish in dignity.

Christ, on the other hand, through his titles, calls us to follow a path – certainly – but one that is deeply commensurate with our essence.

He spurs us on to an exodus – not according to set models – because first he leads the person back into themselves. So that we may all put ourselves on the line, deeply and to the extent that is appropriate.

First step: to encounter ourselves in our entirety; in our various facets, even the surprising, unexpressed or unknown ones – generally, traits unimaginable according to rules and classifications.

Even our eccentric, ambiguous, hidden or even personally rejected ways of being: these will reveal the best sides of ourselves along the Way.

Only on this multifaceted path do we find the way to an adventure rich in meaning; not mechanical, nor repetitive – but rather like life itself: always new and authentic.

Not starting from superficial appearances or calculated pretences: there is an Author’s signature that precedes us, in the building up of ourselves and the world.

 

Passing through the various building sites in the city of Philip, Jesus instead chose to compare Simon to the inert, piled-up materials (even in a rather haphazard manner) that lay before him.

That situation struck at the very root of the apostles’ expectations!

The disciples had not yet made room within themselves for the Mystery, for the idea of a secret salvation that bursts forth with its own innate energy; one that transcends ordinary dreams.

‘Cefa’ is in fact derived from the Aramaic ‘Kefas’: a building stone; something hard: in practical terms, a stubborn man like so many others; nothing special, quite the contrary. Jesus gives Simon a derogatory nickname!

In fact, the Greek term ‘petros’ [v.18] is not a proper name: it refers to a stone (picked up from the ground) which can indeed be useful for building – provided, of course, it is shaped to fit. And which not only supports, but is supported; which not only brings together, but is brought together.

Note: the Greek term ‘petra’ [v.18] is not the feminine form of ‘petros’: it means ‘rock’, and refers to the Person of Christ, our sole security (together with faith in Him).

A name that unpredictably transforms an entire life. For it is only the inner Friend who draws from our [even flawed] baggage that which is unforeseen and which wells up.

 

Each of us is chiselled by the Lord according to the name Peter, in the sense of a unique piece, an individual and special element.

Placed in a singular way yet within a great mosaic: that of the history of salvation, where each of us is simultaneously ourselves and in a constant state of regeneration.

The sole sense of belonging shared by the many building stones (all living): the conviviality of differences, the communion of disparate fraternal members within the ministerial Church.

None for ever, but everywhere (ceaselessly) pulsating nuclei of a humble institution, entirely gathered from the earth… Freed without cost.