Who Do You Say That I Am?
Children ask questions all the time
about all sorts of things. Children want to know about absolutely
everything. When their questions amuse us, we tell them to our friends.
Sometimes they ask us difficult questions. But no matter how awkward a
child’s questioning might get, no child would ever ask the question
Jesus puts to Peter in this gospel passage: “Who do you say that I am?”
This is an adult question. This question cuts right to the heart of
things. It pins you down. You either have to tell the truth or tell a
pretty good lie. There is no room for some vague non-committal response.
There is no room for saying what somebody wants to hear or for saying
the easy thing.
“Who do you say that I am?” On this
Feast of Peter and Paul as we ponder that dramatic moment at Caesarea
Philippi, he puts that question to each of us. We have the answer,
because the answer has been formulated by generations of those who have
gone before us marked with the sign of faith, but today he doesn’t ask
us for a formula we have received, he asks us what we actually believe.
He asks us for the truth and we can’t fool him
This Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul
is about how faith in Jesus Christ engages each of us. These two great
apostles were both martyred for the faith in Rome. In that Church these
two Apostles handed on the faith which has been lived down the centuries
and across the nations. This is the same faith which we try to live
each day.
“Who do you say that I am?”
Peter replies “You are the Christ, the
Son of the living God”. Jesus does a strange thing. He answers Peter by
telling him who he is, “You are Peter and on this rock I will build my
Church”. One of the most awkward things about the question Jesus put to
Peter, “who do you say that I am?” is that it reflects back on
ourselves. It makes us ask ourselves, “Who am I?” If we really believe
that Jesus is the Son of God, the one who died for us, if we really let
this great love impinge on us, then obviously it forces us to look at
ourselves.
There is a stage in love, when the
beloved marvels at the fact that he or she is loved by this person. Why
does she love me? There may be a later stage when you say, what did I
ever see in you!! But it’s not like that with the love Jesus has for us.
“Who do you say that I am?” Coming from
Christ, the one who died for us, the Son of God, this question demands
that I have an answer within me about myself.
People say all sorts of things about me.
Some words will be easy to hear, whereas others will not be so
comfortable. If it is people who know me, what they say will hover
somewhere around the truth. But what they say about me will never define
me. There will always be more to me.
People sometimes surprise us. You might
write someone off, and then they “come good”. Maybe they sort something
out or maybe get their circumstances change. Perhaps burdens are lifted
or wounds healed, but suddenly they seem to flourish in a way you
wouldn’t have expected.
Children surprise us too. To watching
them grow is to watch something precious unfold. But even if we could
have predicted that he’d be a carpenter just like his father or a
teacher just like her mother, there is more to him or her than that.
They are not replicas of their parents. The call of God is surprising
because God can see deeper than we can. God knows us through and
through. He knows the answer to that question about me. He knows who I
am in truth.
Look at Peter. This is the one who after
that first miraculous haul of fish goes down on his knees and says,
“Leave me Lord for I am a sinful man”. This is the one who lost faith,
who refused to have his feet washed, who not only ran away in
Gethsemane, but denied Christ three times. This is the one who wept
bitter tears at cock crow. And yet this is the one to whom Jesus
entrusts his flock. This is the living rock on which our faith is based,
a rock streaked with failure and doubt, and yet by God grace endures.
It is the living Word of God who speaks
to us. It is God who calls us forward. It is the God who loves us and
knows us through and through, who asks us, “Who do you say that I am”.
It is in our attempt to answer his question that we will discover his
loving and gracious answer for each of us.(Dermot Morrin OP. torch.op.org:here)
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