(Mt 16:13–27)

 

Who I Am, the Keys, the Faith, the Name

(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 [he 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 (for atheists, a philanthropist), the most widespread of which is still that of an ancient Lord, the guarantor of conventional behaviour.

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

 

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

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

It is a proposal of the margins, akin to 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’ is recognisable only by placing oneself at the greatest possible distance 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 pagans, who previously felt excluded but were gradually integrating.

 

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

In the Semitic mindset, 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 the Afterlife – indeed, it is not even institutional. In Hebrew, the term ‘key’ derives 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 embody the type of arrogant monarch, an image of authority; a substitute for the emperor.

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

This seems strange to any ancient conception, 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 ancient minds of the Apostles.

 

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

A plotline that is all too ordinary, incapable of renewing us.

 

 

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

 

Distancing oneself from what is hoped for

 

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

The Lord wants his inner circle 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 flocks and herds.

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

The allusion to the setting refers to the comforts that pagan religion generally offers; 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 showed themselves capable of showering 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 establishment [vv. 6, 11] which promised prosperity [vv. 5–12; cf. Mt 15:32–38].

And Jesus instructs them further, so that at least his messengers 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 even 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 matter, at that time the divisions were particularly acute, not only with regard to paganism, but also the conflicts between Jews who had converted to the Lord and those who observed the tradition.

Indeed, the sacred books 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 – 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 first human impulses: indeed, it is disconcerting, given our obvious views and instincts).

Thus the Master contradicts Peter himself [vv.20.23], whose opinion remained tied to the conformist and popular notion 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], leading him astray!

Simon must start being a disciple again; he must stop laying out recognised and opportunistic paths for everyone, hijacking God in God’s 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, among 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 sense 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 almost as an acoustic icon of the person, embodying his virtues; evocative of his presence and power.

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

Not infrequently, even in our own mindset, it has been intended to express an omen, a mandate, a wish, a blessing, a vocation, a destiny, a task, a call, a mission [nomen (est) omen].

But here lies the difference between a sacred mindset and Faith. In religions, the proper name that the master or founder bestows upon the disciple is a sort of signpost: he who lacks the insight or fortune, strength and courage to realise it would diminish in dignity.

Christ, however, with his appellations, calls us to walk a path, certainly – but one deeply commensurate with the essence.

He urges us to set out on a journey – not according to set patterns – because first he brings the person back into themselves. So that we all commit ourselves deeply and to the extent that is required.

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: along the Way, these will reveal the best sides of ourselves.

Only on this plural track do we find the path 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 calculation: there is an Author’s signature that precedes us, in the building 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 haphazard manner) that lay before him.

That condition struck at the 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; that surpasses common dreams.

Cephas, in fact, derives from the Aramaic Kefas: a building stone; something hard: practically, a stubborn man like so many others; nothing special, quite the contrary. Jesus gives Simon a negative nickname!

In fact, the Greek term ‘petros’ [v.18] is not a proper name: it denotes 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 only security (together with Faith in Him).

A name that unpredictably changes a whole life. For it is only the inner Friend who draws from our [even flawed] baggage the unexpected that springs forth.

 

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

Placed in a unique way yet within a great mosaic: that of the history of salvation, where each one is simultaneously oneself and in a continuous phase of regeneration.

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

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

 

 

Reputation: the crossroads of the Cross

(Mt 16:24-27)

 

    To lose one’s life or to forfeit it? To save it or to find it? Christ desires to lead us to the Homeland that corresponds to us deeply.

He proposes this by sharing the pilgrimage, in exploration; together with Him and our brothers and sisters.

As we proceed, what we do is motivated by the search for the fullness of being and happiness – even the risk.

 

We have become passionate about the journey in the Spirit for the very same reason: to experience an increase in life.

Yet in the Master’s proposal we discern a disconcerting logic.

To shield ourselves from vain illusions (which degrade us), we must not rush to seize prestigious roles, possessions or relationships that matter.

The most attractive and conspicuous things remain external and barren. They do not regenerate. 

Instead… waiting, listening, the practice of passive virtues, bitterness and defeat, call us to turn inwards.

Setback is a call that is preparing the most relevant and well-founded future developments, precisely in favour of a full life.

Of course, those who do not join in the rush for titles and the charade of social ceremonies may immediately suffer the worst. But this is better than losing the quality and fruitfulness of life, squandering them in misunderstanding.

 

Often our ‘leaving everything behind’ to follow Christ is itself for an expected and hoped-for gain. Even a ‘good’ one: immediately relational, qualitative, and cultural, for example

[The guides spoke to us in this regard of the vice of “spiritual gluttony”: the aim is to learn interesting things, to have good and substantial company, to increase one’s knowledge, to find well-founded ways to be praised, etc.].

The point is that the imagined positive outcome is always shaped by old intentions. Ultimately, to assert oneself, to shine and to command; not to “lose”.

Not to ‘give in’. Not to allow other energies and horizons to enter into situations, and to surface – paradoxically – within us.

On this unappealing terrain – which in Christ will become overflowing with grace, fruitful, and deeply formative – even those who do not fear sacrifice may waver, because the Way of the Crucified One seems to lead us straight to mockery and failure.

Yet the profound and seemingly absurd rationale of the new Magisterium emerges; without ulterior motives.

Engagement with the Word helps us increasingly to realise that it is necessary to introduce into the soul of each person a new frame of reference: personal, social, communal.

 

The old, secure and triumphant context helped to build an impressive framework, but one that clashes with the meaning of the Good News of Salvation.

Life as the saved is for everyone. A transparent Proclamation, now: of boundless Beatitudes in favour of the meek, the humiliated and the neglected, those in need of everything.

 

Even for Jesus, the evangelisation of the Apostles and of his ‘neighbours’ – all intent on softening and toning down his immoderate Dreams – was no walk in the park.

Just like the Lord, even today true Proclaimers must already reckon with afflictions, and traps, shoves, mockery, derision (the most surprising of all).

But we must not give up, not least because the embarrassment of those who suddenly find themselves led not onto a triumphant path is understandable. Not onto a breathtaking trail, dotted with honourable and exhilarating milestones.

Rather, a path of truth and self-giving that is discarded and rejected – no longer sugar-coated, superficial, or contraband.

One can tolerate this, after all, with a sense of realism; just as Jesus did with his Peter. In short, this strand too may form part of the new balance that the Spirit is building.

Yes, the institutional and compromising [“Petrine”] aspect often seeks to take the initiative and exorcise Jesus’ Call; to silence it, in favour of displaying its superpowers.

Yet the Master does not allow himself to be held hostage – indeed, it is He who has put the leader of the disciples in his place (vv.22-23).

 

The cross was a death penalty and a perpetual disgrace reserved for rebellious slaves; outlaws, subversives, misfits who refused their position of social marginalisation.

This is what it all comes down to: agreeing to raise the horizontal beam of the public gallows behind Jesus still means, even today, forgetting one’s ‘reputation’, being shamed.

Not for the sake of asceticism, nor any particular form of perfectionism.

To strip oneself of superfluous possessions, to lose prestige and status, to be shamed, to let others go ahead [even if they manipulate us: for sooner or later they will realise].

So that we may allow Providence time to prepare us.

The life to come will call upon other energies, arranging events in a manner more mysterious than obvious.

It will bring into play diverse – converging – personal and social virtues that are cosmic and intimately humanising; acutely fascinating and springing forth.

 

We are experiencing this in a time of crisis and turmoil, for a ‘rebirth’ that demands new beginnings; one that seems to have no desire whatsoever to conform to the past age.

Indeed, in the storm, the passion of love has its preparatory stages, of the highest order, which sooner or later will bring forth authentic and eminent awareness. And the fraternal spirit nestled in everyone’s soul.

The perspective is, in this sense, personal, but not individualistic; rather, it is that of the ‘Son of Man’: He who allows us to glimpse the human dimension, accessible and divinising.

But we must be aware of it: let us help one another to grasp Him as Present (vv. 27–28)!

Indeed, in the Gospels, the ‘Son of God’ is Christ who reveals the Father, unveiling God in the human condition. The ‘Son of Man’ is Jesus who reveals man in the divine condition.

The ‘Son of Man’ is He who, having pushed himself to the utmost of love in the fullness of Personhood, comes to reflect the divine condition, displaying and radiating it in eminent signs.

He does so without the narrow perspectives typical of religions; without even a legacy of ‘correct’ and unchanging ideas, or forces of increasing intensity and ever-improving performance.

‘Son of Man’ is the successful Son: the Person who has taken the definitive step.

The Word who became our neighbour, who within us aspires to the fullness spread throughout history, to an indestructible calibre within everyone he approaches (and encounters heartfelt divine figures, sublime traits of humanisation).

We therefore risk living ‘with’ and ‘for’ others, setting aside the pursuit of esteem, and losing credit [not seeking to gain it at all costs].

We do so with conviction; embracing our own distinctive Calling, experiencing the Father who provides for us.

In this way, we shall succeed in lifting up the blossoming Cross, which fertilises the soul and the world around us.

An experience from which there is no turning back – so sublime is it, with boundless horizons, impossible to imagine or set as a goal, due to sterile ‘nature’.

On this ray of light and with a new Name, even amidst the great hardships of our time we shall be like the Friend-Guide: genuine, not conformist; resting on the core of being, yet standing firm on unexplored paths.

Simultaneously committed and serene. Less mundane, through personal contact.

 

 

To internalise and live the message:

 

In what sense have you experienced life gained, after having ‘lost’ it? By drawing on which dormant energies? On which unexplored paths?