Jesus went into the region of Caesarea Philippi and he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is? They replied, “Some say John the Baptist, others Elijah, still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” Simon Peter said in reply, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” Jesus said to him in reply, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah. For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my heavenly Father. And so I say to you, you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it. I will give you the keys to the kingdom of heaven. Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.” Then he strictly ordered his disciples to tell no one that he was the Christ.” (Matthew 16.13-20)
In many ways, we find ourselves at the tipping point of Matthew’s gospel in the selection that we find on this Twenty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time. The proclamation by Peter that Jesus of Nazareth is the Christ is one that the gospel has been building towards, firmly establishing Jesus’ identity for his followers and for all believers. The remainder of the gospel will define what exactly is meant by the designation of Jesus as the Christ.
For the most part, Matthew is following carefully his source, that is Mark, in retelling this story. Typical of Mark, the story is much briefer. Matthew has chosen to expand it, particularly Peter’s part in the story. There are a few other changes that Matthew has made to the episode at Caesarea Philippi, but overall the two versions align.
The focal point of the story in both versions is the question that Jesus addresses to his disciples. “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” Before we go any further, we want to point out that Matthew prefers to have Jesus refer to himself as the Son of Man instead of the Son of God. One is probably favored over the other simply because of the long history of the phrase “Son of Man” that is found in the Hebrew scriptures. Of course, as we see, Peter soon enough will use the other phrase “Son of the living God.”
The disciples do not hesitate to offer answers to the question posed to them, no doubt answering truthfully, sharing with Jesus some of the things that people have said about him. John the Baptist. Elijah. Jeremiah. Or another of the prophets. None is surprising, not really. Each one was significant in Jewish history, considered a prophet chosen by God, John the Baptist being the most recent.
Jewish tradition had long argued that the prophet Elijah would return to earth to herald the end times, the belief rooted in his being carried into the high heavens by a chariot, perhaps returning by the same way. Matthew adds the name of Jeremiah to the Marcan list, the reason being easily explained by Matthew’s fondness for this particular prophet, quoting him and invoking his name in several other instances.
Of course, the initial question serves as a springboard for the second question, the one that really counts. Having heard what the disciples had to offer by way of public feedback, he then asks, “But who do you say that I am?” Obviously, this is the more important question, forcing the disciples to move from the safe place of what others are saying to the far more risky place of what they personally think.
Jesus, often portrayed as a teacher in this gospel, is doing what good teachers do. They allow students to put themselves at a safe distance by answering a question with other people’s answers. So, we hear the disciples answer, “Some say one thing, others say another thing.” Jesus then removes their protective shield and requires them to take a personal position on the question, to put skin in the game, so to speak.
Peter, always presented as the spokesperson for the Twelve, answers forthrightly, telling Jesus “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” His answer brings the only recorded instance of a blessing being bestowed upon one of the disciples by Jesus who says to him in response, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah, for flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my heavenly Father.”
Matthew then inserts the elongated assignment that Jesus gives to Peter, none of which is mentioned in Mark’s version. However, the story ends the same in both gospels with the words, “Then he strictly ordered his disciples to tell no one that he was the Christ.” Overall, it is an odd conclusion, considering Peter has garnered praise by giving the right answer and thereby proving the previous answers as wrong. You’d think Jesus would want the record set straight, clearing up the confusion about who he actually is. But he does the opposite, requiring the disciples to say absolutely nothing.
So, it’s here that we want to focus our attention, coming up with an answer for the quandary. And, all things considered, the answer is not all that difficult to find. In fact, we have it given to us in the verses that immediately follow upon these few we have today and that will be ours to study next Sunday. Basically, what follows is Jesus’s redefining the understanding of the term “the Christ,” another way of saying “the Anointed One,” a phrase in Jewish tradition that refers to the long-expected Messiah.
Having accepted Peter’s answer to the critical question, now Jesus wants everyone to understand that he may well be the Messiah, but he is not the Messiah that people are expecting. In fact, the first thing Jesus says afterwards is one of his three subsequent predictions of his death, telling them that “the Son of Man must suffer greatly and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and rise after three days.”
Accustomed as we are to the rest of the story–something the disciples do not know at this point–we fail to recognize the bombshell that Jesus has put before them in those few words. In effect, he obliterates the common understanding of who the Messiah will be and redefines the title in terms totally opposite to the traditional meaning.
For ages, the Jewish people had anticipated the arrival of a Messiah, a larger than life figure who would remove the yolk of servanthood from their backs that has been put upon them by foreign powers, most especially Rome in these times, and restore their small nation to its former glory, generally understood as the halcyon days of King David, the greatest of the kings of Israel.
The Messiah would arrive on the scene with power and might, horses and men, and he would rout the foreign oppressors through valiant battles, obliterating them and obliging them to bend the knee now to his own superior power. In other words, the Messiah would restore the right order of things, and he would take no prisoners in doing it.
So, when Jesus turns these expectations on their head and describes his role in terms that do not look anything like victory, but like defeat, his disciples surely were struck dumb. Stating that he would have to suffer greatly and be rejected and be killed was just about as far from being a savior as they could imagine. In so saying, he shattered their expectations into a thousand pieces.
And it is for that same reason that he required silence from them at this point. He understood fully well that not only were the Twelve dumbfounded by his reinterpretation of who the Messiah would be, but the crowds likewise would be confused and uncertain. Jesus knew they weren’t ready for the truth, having lived for so long with expectations about victory being around the corner as soon as the Messiah stepped onto the scene. Instead, Jesus said nothing about winning and everything about losing.
I think it is here that we want to take a closer look because, truth be told, we’re all in the same boat as the disciples, people who have clear and certain expectations about God, about who God is, and about what he will do for us. We may not articulate out loud our beliefs about God, but they are always in the back of our mind. And, as a rule, those expectations have little to do with our pain, our suffering, or our defeat.
Instead, we want to believe that God will reward the just and punish the unjust, that he will lift up the meek and bring down the proud, that he will bless those who are faithful and curse those who are unfaithful to his ways. The list goes on. We expect God to be a buffer between us and misfortune, to keep us safe and secure, and to support us lest we stumble.
But, as life proves at a frightening steady rate, God does not follow our rules. He does not abide by our definitions. In short, we do not give marching orders to God, nor, for that matter, should we expect him to follow them. As a result, we often find ourselves confused and confounded, conflicted and contradicted. We land in that no man’s land where who we think God is may not be who God is. And when that happens, what do we do?
Jesus understood how quickly people can dictate who God is and how easily they can lose heart when he falls short of their expectations. He looked around and he heard what people expected of him. He knew they wanted him to crush Roman oppression and to bring back their former glory. But he also saw that this was not to be his role. His future was determined by the will of God, not by the will of the people.
As a result, he would be beaten and bedraggled, stripped and struck, mocked and maligned, none of which fitted their definition of a Messiah. What he saw ahead for his destiny fell far short of a savior, at least as a savior was understood in the minds of the people. He knew full well it was not what the people had expected, but it was the path that he must walk alone if he was to do the will of his Father in heaven.
So, we are left to ponder today just what our reaction is when we find that God does not meet our expectations, when we find ourselves disappointed and disillusioned by his inaction, when we find God does not come to the rescue with his armies and with his great power. Do we collapse and lose heart, convinced we have believed in fool’s gold, not in a mighty God, or do we continue on the way, as Jesus did, trustful and hopeful that God will make things right in the end?
We have heard Peter declare Jesus to be the Anointed One, but we also know he is about to learn a hard lesson. His understanding of the Anointed One will undergo a severe challenge as Jesus dies on a cross. He will have to adjust his understanding, allowing God to work as he wills, or lose heart and walk away, defeated and destroyed. It is the same test that all of us undergo at some or several points in life.
So, as we can see, much is beneath the surface in this Caesarea Philippi story and much more is behind Jesus’ pointed question to his disciples, “But who do you say that I am,” than first meets the eye. We learn that it is not enough to answer the question as Peter does, but requires us to make sure we fully understand what we are answering when we say, “You are the Anointed One.” We want to make sure that our understanding agrees with God’s understanding, and not the opposite, which would be to convince ourselves that God’s thoughts are the same as our thoughts.
Here, it is useful to remember what God advised the people of Israel through the prophet Isaiah, “My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways. As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways.”
–Jeremy Myers
