A homily for the Twenty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time, Aug. 23, 2020
Is 22:19-23, Rom 11:33-36, Mt 16:13-20
Who is this guy?
Who is this guy?
Who is this guy??
How many times in our lives have we thought we knew somebody, only to be surprised by something s/he says or does that seems totally out of character?
Now, all too often when our jaws drop and we shake our heads and we ask ourselves silently or out loud, “Who is this person I thought I knew,” we’re asking in a moment of sad disbelief.
And rarely are we asking ourselves this question because somebody asked us to tell them, as Jesus asks Peter and the disciples in today’s Gospel. That question in itself comes at one of those jaw-drop moments: “Who is this guy who’s asking me who I think he is? What’s his agenda by asking me? What’s he getting at?”
“Who do you think I am?” is not a question any of us typically would ask a friend, unless they’re having trouble recognizing us with a mask on, from six feet away. “Hey, it’s me, Bill. Can’t you tell who I am?”
And yet, as weird as it seems, Jesus flat-out asks his right-hand men, “[W]ho do you say that I am?”
Peter got the answer right.
Because the real question at the core of today’s Scripture passages isn’t answered with name, rank and serial number, or name and street address. This is not a question of what’s on somebody’s ID card.
It’s a question of essence.
It’s a question about how much of the infinite divinity within Jesus that each of us is capable of recognizing. Willing to recognize.
It’s equally a question about how much of God’s divine spark within each of us that we’re willing to reveal to the world.
Peter recognized the Christ, the Messiah, Emmanuel within the man he knew as Jesus, the carpenter from Nazareth. Peter acknowledged Jesus as the Son of God sent by the Father to heal a sick and broken world. Peter embraced the truth, and Jesus rewarded Peter — albeit, with the strange reward of added and awesome responsibilities. But Jesus knew the fisherman could handle the job.
Peter, likewise, knew he and all of his spiritual descendants would have to continue the work, would have to spread The Word and would have to be Christ to the world after Jesus went home to the Father, even though at this point in his relationship with Jesus he was not fully aware of the fate that awaited his rabbi.
Or him.
Peter said, on his own behalf and on ours, “I know you are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”
And at that moment, the essence of the true leader of all that was, is and ever will be was stated as eternal, unfading, undying fact.
Then Jesus does something that seems totally counterintuitive: He orders his disciples not to tell anyone. Even though, not long after this event in salvation history, the disciples will be inspired by the Holy Spirit to go tell it on the mountain. (By the way, those disciples include us.)
Why, for Heaven’s sake, would Jesus want to keep this a secret?
He doesn’t.
He just doesn’t want his crew to tell anybody, especially with the over-the-top enthusiasm they likely would have exuded.
What he wants is for people like us to come to the realization ourselves. To recognize his essence, his substance, his total divinity within his total humanity, and to embrace it the same way the earliest disciples did.
To have our own aha moment, so we can follow him enthusiastically of our own accord instead of being cajoled or otherwise nudged into discipleship.
These days, in this loud and divided world, we’re urged to follow all sorts of leaders, and they and their entourages aim to sell us on these leaders’ qualities. Some of these leaders reveal how they are working to be Christ to others and find Christ in others. Others do not.
Many of us likewise are called to be leaders of one sort or another. And some of us reveal how we are working to be Christ to others and find Christ in others. Others among us do not.
Do we dare reveal the Christ within ourselves to ourselves? Can we? Because we must, even when it’s awkward or even scary.
Because to find our place in God’s kingdom, it all comes down to how we ourselves, how the world, and how the God who judges fairly and honestly would answer that simple question about you and me:
Who is that guy?
Who are we, indeed?
