Twenty-Second Sunday of Ordinary Time (Cycle A)

Take Up Your Cross and Follow Me

Jeremiah 20-7-9; Romans 12:1-2; Matthew 16:21-27

It was in last week’s Gospel that Jesus asked His disciples, “Who do you say that I am?”, and it was Peter who said, “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.” By the grace and knowledge of God, Peter was right. Before him stood Jesus, the Son of God in human flesh. Imagine the thoughts and reactions of the disciples: their Teacher has gotten off to a humble start, what with this walking from town-to-town and teaching. Nevertheless, He’s the long-awaited Christ. Things are going to get better…aren’t they? He’s only going to grow in popularity and power, and gather the love of the many…right? It’s only a matter of time until He sits on a throne and begins to rule…isn’t it? And how wonderful for the disciples, to be in this on the ground floor and going along for the ride. All of this must appeal greatly to the disciples’ human minds and thoughts.

Today’s gospel is a continuation of last week’s, but the mood changes dramatically. Matthew tells us that “From that time Jesus began to show to His disciples that He must go to Jerusalem, and suffer many things from the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and be raised the third day.” Jesus is going to Jerusalem to suffer and be killed? How can that be? How could the Son of God allow Himself to die? Why would He? This doesn’t fit in with the disciples’ preconceived notions. 

Ever the spokesman, it’s Peter who pulls Jesus aside. “God forbid, Lord; no such thing shall ever happen to You!” We can’t read the mind of Peter or know his emotions, though we guess at a mixture of shock and incredulity, fear and concern for his Lord. But no matter how sincere his motives, Jesus still turns to him and says, “Get behind Me, Satan! You are an offense to me, for you are not thinking as God does, but as human beings do.” 

Peter’s head must have been spinning! One moment Jesus calls him the “rock,” the one on which he will build his Church, and the very next moment he calls him “Satan,” one acting against God’s plan. Why? Because Peter’s got the Lord’s life all planned out, and crucifixion isn’t part of the plan. He knows exactly who he wants Jesus to be. But that’s the problem: rather than listen to Jesus and submit to His Word, Peter wants to make Him into something different. He tempts Jesus to be someone different than who he is and to do something less than he came into the world to accomplish. Peter is tempting Jesus to abandon the cross and our salvation in exchange for the popular notion at the time for the messiah to be a great and glorious warrior-king; one who would defeat Israel’s enemies and usher in an age of peace and prosperity.

Peter’s thinking the things of men: the Lord can’t go to the cross and die, because that’s just not right. This goes along well with Satan’s agenda: the last thing the devil wants is for Jesus to redeem the world from sin. But no matter who Peter wants Jesus to be, Jesus is Jesus. He is the Christ, the Son of the living God.

And then, to make things worse, Jesus defines for Peter, for the Apostles, and for us, exactly what it will mean to follow him, to be his disciple. If he is the type of messiah that will be rejected, will suffer greatly, and be put to death, then it necessarily follows that we must deny ourselves, take up our crosses, and surrender our lives.

What Jesus is saying here is so radical and different to our usual way of thinking and acting. We are so used to ‘looking out for number one’ and the attitude that ‘my needs are more important than anyone else’s’ that Jesus’ words fly in the face of the self-seeking and self-importance that is so common in our world. 

Jesus commands us to deny ourselves – that’s even radical for Christians because we know just how difficult this is. These are difficult words - "forget yourself, your needs, your ideas, your plans, your need to impress, your fears, your need to be highly regarded in the sight of others, your whatever, and be my disciple". 

Now we could do what we usually do with anything that is too hard - ignore it, or water it down, somehow make it a bit easier to swallow. Or we could do just as it says, that is, to follow his example of letting go of being so "me" focussed, and put God and his kingdom first. 

This means that nothing, no matter how sacred, is permitted to come between ourselves and God. We place ourselves at his disposal. His plans are our plans, his will is our will, his ways are our ways. In our lives we are committed to only one thing – focused on being Christ-like in our relationships with others, dedicated to being truly his disciples, committed to following God's way and not those of the world, faithful to God's will that love would be our guide in every circumstance. Make no mistake about it, Jesus is saying to his followers, ‘Becoming a disciple is a radical step and being a disciple demands your commitment to forget yourself, as crazy as this might seem to everyone else’.

And then, Jesus goes on to give the formula for the ultimate loser. ‘Take up your cross’, not his cross, but your own cross. 

The words, "Take up your cross" can rightly be understood in the narrower fashion. This includes the sense of accepting the "cross" of poor health, grief, loneliness, job loss and so on in the same way that Jesus was able to endure the suffering and pain of the cross with the knowledge that he had a loving heavenly Father who could be counted on. 

However, this phrase "take up your cross" seems to have the broader and even more positive meaning of sharing with Christ in the work of showing love and compassion. Jesus has placed the burden on all of our shoulders: to care as he cared, forgive as he forgave, heal as he healed, comfort as he comforted, encourage as he encouraged, accept others as he accepted others, follow God's ways as he did, suffer as he suffered, and give sacrificially as he gave sacrificially. Each of us must take up our cross and follow him. 

It doesn’t sound all that attractive does it? Noble…maybe. Valiant…perhaps. But attractive? Not when society tells us to take up the way of the world and follow after ambition, and wealth, and pleasure. And we’re told that if we follow after these things, the stories of our lives will end with success, with happiness, and with a sense of accomplishment. 

But following Jesus? Where will carrying our cross lead us? How will our stories end? In suffering? Rejection? Failure? Death? 

But I know how this story ends (pointing to the cross): 

Suffering is conquered by joy. 

Death is conquered by life. 

Darkness is conquered by light. 

Crucifixion is conquered by resurrection. 

Our faith tells us that despite our suffering and sacrifices our stories will all end the same way, if we but pick up our own crosses and follow Him.

Twenty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle A)

The Rock & Custodian of the Keys 

Isaiah 22:19-23; Romans 11:33-36; Matthew 16:13-20

Keys have power. They open doors, and beyond those doors are things that provide us with comfort, convenience, happiness and security. Without our house keys, we wouldn’t be able to get into our homes and see our families. Without our car keys, we wouldn’t get anywhere. Without the keys to our safe, we wouldn’t be able to get the important things we’ve kept hidden.

In literature, keys represent knowledge, mystery, initiation and curiosity. Mystery comes in the form of secrets hidden behind locked chests, or locked doors. Knowledge can be in the form of a secret learned, wisdom unlocked through discovery. Keys can also mean initiation into a new way of life. Teenagers are given car keys which represent the maturity and responsibility that go hand-in-hand with the rite of passage into adulthood.

More importantly, keys can be a symbol of power. When the mayor hands the keys to the city to a hero, it means that the hero has risen from a mere citizen to an influential and important part of the community. And keys to a prison represent an ultimate power over someone’s life, to lock them in or to lock them out of society.

In today's gospel passage, Jesus has asks the disciples who people say that he is - Jesus wants to know what people are saying about him. And they tell him, "Some say John the Baptist." Now, if you'll remember John the Baptist had recently been beheaded by Herod and people thought Jesus was John the Baptist come back to life - even Herod himself in Mark 6 was confused by Jesus' appearance and wondered if Jesus was John the Baptist raised from the dead. Some thought Jesus was Elijah or Jeremiah, prophets from the Old Testament, whom the Jews believed would appear before the Messiah came.

Then Jesus says to them, "But who do YOU say that I am?" And from the awkward silence that falls upon the Apostles, Peter blurts out, "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God." Here for a moment Peter gets it right - Jesus is more than a teacher, more than a prophet, more than a great moral leader, more than an example for us to follow. Jesus was not only the longed for Messiah, he was the Son of the Living God - the very mind and heart of God in the flesh! And because of Simon Peter's climactic confession, Jesus blesses him, changes his name from Simon to Peter, giving him a new identity as "the Rock," and then tosses him the keys to God's kingdom. It was an amazing gesture. You don't give powerful keys to just anyone!

At first glance, Peter seems an unlikely choice on which to bestow such a monumental responsibility. He stumbled, he fell, he denied and denied and denied. He struggled to understand. And even in his understanding, there was often some slight hesitation — some mistake, some fear

I’ll walk on water, Lord . . . Oops, help, I’m drowning!

I’ll never let them take you Lord, give me that Sword . . . Jesus? Never heard of him.

Lord, I’ll stand by you forever . . . Well, Jesus is dead, I’m going fishing.

It’s easy – maybe even a little comforting — to see ourselves as Peter. To identify with him. To see in his mis-steps, an echo of our own. After all, if Peter could finally “get it”, so can we. If Peter could stumble through his own difficult journey of faith maybe we can make it, too. Peter’s image of endearing cluelessness may be at times reassuring — encouraging — even heartwarming but I wonder if that image ultimately serves us well, or truly reflects the Rock, the Custodian of the Keys, on which Jesus so clearly relied.Peter may have stumbled at times, but he was also bold, daring, honest, filled with zeal and completely dedicated to our Lord:

• He put down his nets without hesitation to follow a man he didn’t know into a future he couldn’t see.
• He left everything he loved, trusting that his father, his wife, his children, his business, would be safe, even if he was not.
• He set out into the deep, knowing that whatever he needed would be taught to him. And if those lessons came at a terrible price, well, then, he would simply have to pay.
• When the crowds deserted Jesus after he told them he was the Bread of Life, and he asked the Twelve if they, too, wanted to leave him, Peter’s answer came immediately: “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of everlasting life.”
• It was Peter who preached to the masses in Jerusalem on the day of Pentecost and then defended the inclusion of Gentiles into the Church at the Council in Jerusalem.
• Imprisoned, chained, abused and eventually martyred for his faith,Simon Peter lived up to his nickname, becoming a Rock for all who came behind him.

Yes, it’s easy, maybe even a little comforting to see ourselves in Peter. In fact, it’s hard not to, since his challenges and trials are like a mirror held up to our own lives. We grow hot and cold in our enthusiasm for God; we are often confused about our faith, about what it means to be a follower of Jesus; we continually stumble on our journey of life. But equally, his triumphs should echo in our lives as well. We may stumble with Peter, but we should also join him in boldness and zeal. We may occasionally deny Christ, but we should also stand firm in the face of persecution. We may sometimes misunderstand, but we should be willing to cast our nets into the deep, and take our chances on faith, even when the future seems unclear.

There are TWO great confessions of faith in today’s Gospel. One is Peter’s faith is Jesus: “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.” The other is Jesus’ faith in Peter: “You are Rock and on this Rock I will build my church.” We are all here today because we, like Peter, profess our faith that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the Living God. But also like Peter, Jesus professes his faith in us and tosses us our own set of keys. A different set than those he gave to Peter, but nonetheless, important ones: Keys that can unlock the mysteries of faith to our children, to nonbelievers, to those of questioning faith. Keys to unlock hearts, to love the unloved and the unlovable. Keys that unleash care and compassion on those who are in need. And keys that unlock doors of prejudice and exclusion to the outcasts and those who live on the margins of our lives and in our community.

Peter: the Apostle, the first pope, the martyr, the Rock, the Custodian of the Keys. His life shouldn’t confirm us in our weakness, but rather inspire us to seek greatness. If we are listening, Peter’s story can teach us to be loyal, to be brave, to be filled with the power of faith and hope.

Lord, grant us more Peters - more men and women who are willing to wear their heart on their sleeves, who are willing to make mistakes for the sake of love of Christ, who are willing to give up being safe, for the sake of following their Lord, people who follow their Lord with all their heart, and strength, and mind.

Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle A)

Women, Great Is Your Faith!

Isaiah 56:1, 6-7; Romans 11:13-15, 29-32; Matthew 15:21-28

What is going on in today’s Gospel? Is this the same Jesus who repeatedly throughout the gospels reaches out to welcome, teach, heal, and eat with the outcasts, the sinners, the women and all the others who were marginalized in his society? 

The Gospel reading for today gives us what, to my mind, is certainly one of the strangest images of Jesus in all of Scripture. He seems to be completely out of character. It is not the picture of the compassionate openness that usually radiates from the Scriptural image of Jesus. In fact, He even seems, at first, to be outright offensive. Jesus is approached by a woman whose daughter is ill. And she, as hundreds of others had done, asked Jesus for His help, to cure the girl. And usually, this kind of a request brought an immediate response from Jesus. But in this instance He totally ignores her. He says nothing at all. And when his silence is finally broken by the Apostles, all they have to say is, "Send this woman away. She is bothering us." And in fact that is what Jesus seems about to do, and callously so.

He says to the woman, "My concern is not with you. Only with the people of Israel." But the woman does not give up, she presses her plea. And then Jesus says something that seems very harsh. He says, "It would not be right for me to take something that belongs to God's chosen people, the Jews, the sons and daughters, and throw it to the dogs, to someone like you."

But the woman doesn't seem to be put off by that, she doesn't even seem to be particularly offended. It is almost as if she was used to that kind of treatment. And in fact, that may well have been the case. She had two things working against her, after all, two things that would make the Apostle's brush-off a pretty natural reaction. First, she was a woman. And in those days, that was a pretty hard role to have. Women were not taken very seriously. But Jesus had long since demonstrated that He did not accept that attitude, and the Gospels make quite a point of the fact that Jesus counted among His closest friends, Martha, and Mary and Mary Magdalene. 

And the second, and really the greater thing that this woman had against her was that she was a Canaanite, a member of one of the tribes that the Jews had conquered when they took over the Promised Land. You see, throughout their history, the Hebrews had a sense of being chosen by God, which gave them a sense of identity, a sense of purpose that was really unique in human history. They were a people who very much and very rightly saw themselves as set apart by God, as a nation really very different from the rest of the world. This sense of being chosen was so strong, in fact, that it often made the Hebrews a very narrow and intolerant people, a prejudiced people. And that ugliest of human emotions, outright prejudice, was the force at work in this Gospel scene. In the minds of the Apostles, the woman was not one of the chosen people, she was not "one of us", and as such she had no right to even make a request of God, let alone assume that he would do anything about it. And so Jesus' attitude, the role that He seems to be playing, was really much more directed toward the Apostles than it was toward the woman. By Himself being so much a man of His time and culture, by recognizing, even verbalizing the prejudicial attitude of His followers, Jesus sort of picks up this intolerance, and holds it up in front of their faces, and then, by His final loving acceptance of the woman, condemns it, contradicts it, and begins to turn it around. 

  

But despite everything the woman has going against her, she believes that Jesus can help her and she is persistent and she is humble in her belief. This woman doesn't plead for a special exception but simply asks Jesus to treat her with the grace and the love, the compassion and the healing power that she knows he has given to others. She doesn't come looking for proof of His messiahship or divinity, she doesn't speak to Jesus on behalf of her virtues, but simply appeals to his goodness and demands that he be who she knows him to be, the Loving Lord.

The woman holds onto her faith in Jesus in the face of obstinacy.

- She holds onto her faith even though she does not hear an answer from him right away.

- She holds onto her faith despite the barriers raised by others.

- She holds onto her faith even in the face of apparent insult and rejection from the one she believes in. 

And in the end she receives the reward of faith. Jesus blesses her, "Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish." 

Here lies the key to the whole story. It is her faith that makes the difference. "Great is your faith" -- compare this to the words we heard addressed to the apostle Peter in last week's Gospel: "O you of little faith, why did you doubt?" Peter was a Jew, Jesus' friend, and one of the chosen twelve; yet this Canaanite woman had shown greater faith than Peter. And her faith is rewarded.

We’ve probably all had the experience of asking for something and hearing the words, "The answer is no, and don't ask me again!” But this is not how it is with God. Jesus teaches us through his encounter with the Canaanite woman that we should ask for whatever we need, and ask for it again, and ask for it again.

"It" may be a greater measure of faith, will-power, self-discipline.

"It" may be a sense of peace, in your workplace, in your home, in our world.

"It" may be justice for the oppressed.

"It" may be healing--of your body, mind, spirit, a relationship.

"It" may be an upswing in your finances, employment, success in your business.

"It" may be a dream, a goal, a desire you've always wanted but haven't realized yet.

“It” may be what ever else weighs heavy on your mind, in your heart, or upon your soul.

But often, we give up too easily. We are more afraid of seeming foolish than we are hungry to receive God's blessing. But great faith comes by throwing ourselves at his mercy, deciding that we have no hope anywhere else - great faith comes when we leap into his arms, trusting that they will hold us. For you see, risk is exactly what great faith requires. The Canaanite woman’s faith was nothing more than her firm confidence, until the contrary was proved, that Jesus could and would help her. And she held to that faith above all else, and was willing to press it to the limit. 

Great faith is the faith of the child who comes to the father, even when they know that they must be punished, because they see the tears in their father's eyes, and know that they still rest in his love. Great faith is the child that comes to the mother with a skinned knee, even though they know that she will put iodine on it and it will hurt, because they trust that she would not do anything to hurt them that did not need doing, for their own sake. Great faith is seeing God through the cross, and deciding that he is truly for me, that he loves me as he said he does, and then holding to that faith until all of the evidence is in, and it is proven wrong. That is precisely what makes that faith so great - because there isn't enough evidence in the whole world to prove that kind of faith wrong. On the contrary, the one with that kind of faith will find their faith proved out: again, and again, and again. It will be strengthened constantly.

"Woman, great is your faith." The Canaanite woman claims her place in the kingdom based on faith. In fact, the kingdom of God depends exactly on this kind of faith, rather than the particular family or ethnic group to which we belong or the socio-economic status we might have attained. "Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David," was the cry of this pagan woman whose prayer was heard and whose faith was rewarded. And so, today and everyday, let us echo her prayer, whatever our needs might be: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of David, Son of the Living God, have mercy on us.