Jesus searchingly asks his
disciples, “Who
do you say that I am?” The episode in
the Synoptic Gospels (Mark, Matthew, Luke) in which Jesus asks this questions
occurs within a fairly long and complex narrative. For our present purpose—which is more for
meditation or reflexion—I will not engage in a scholarly interpretation, but
bring out some of the meanings which the evangelist seems to be intending. In other words, why does Matthew report this
question with its context? What is he
saying to us, and why? Homilies this
week-end and next will present, I hope, more insights into Christ’s Question
than can be offered here.
A master teacher asks a probing
question to guide his hearer, his disciple.
Christ is the master Teacher and the master questioner. He does not crank out facile answers, but
leaves his hearers wondering and seeking the truth by means of questions and
provocative stories—often, in his justly famous parables. Heard well and properly, the parables lead
one to make a firm decision for or against God. The questions open up a mind to reality, to being examined and searched
by God: “Why you are afraid? Don’t you have faith?” “How long have I been with you, and yet you
do not know me?” “When the Son of Man
returns, will he find any faith on earth?” And today’s great question, the decisive one: “Who do you say that I am?” The answer we give is the life we live—or
seek to live.
Jesus is not looking for “the
right answer,” for a correct, churchy formulation, such as “You are the Second
Person of the Trinity,” or “You are true God and true man,” or even “You are
the Christ, the Messiah.” The formulas
may be true enough, within the limits of words, and if properly understood; but
Christ is looking for far more than words: He is seeking to cause a revelation. Yes, Jesus Christ has come to us, not to cause a revolution in society,
but to provoke a revelation in his hearer. By his question, Christ is verbally laying his hand on the heart of his
disciples, and seeking to pull back the veil that keeps them from seeing the
truth of reality. He does not credit
this divine action of unveiling or revealing to himself, but He credits the
working of the unknown God, through the word of Christ, in the depth of his
hearer’s heart: “No human being has
revealed this to you, but my Father.”
“The Father” is Jesus’ name for the unknown God, the depths of divinity
beyond anything that can be known, felt, seen, experienced in any way. Beyond the Christ who questions you, is the
unbounded One, that which simply is, the I AM.
The I AM indeed: for what “the angel of the LORD
(Yahweh)” does to Moses at the burning bush, Jesus is now doing in the minds
and hearts of his chosen disciples. The
kind of response Moses gives to the Presence is extremely rare in human
history, and so it is even among the disciples of Christ. For only one man speaks up, only one enters
into the divine-human dialogue which Jesus instigates. The other 11 disciples remain silent; whether
or not their minds have been unveiled on this occasion, we do not know. Perhaps, at this point, their inner hearts
remain veiled. Why? The mystery of divine election (choice) is at
work. Christ invited each man to open up
to the truth of who he is, but on this occasion, only one responds, only one
enters into the process of revelation.
Jesus acknowledges this revolution of revelation: “Blessed are you, Simon Bar Jonah, for no
human being revealed this to you, but my Father. And I tell you, you are Petros (Peter,
Rocky), and on this rock foundation (petra), I will build my
Community.” On what foundation is the
community of Christ founded? Not on the
man Peter or on any particular human being, but on the process of revelation in
a human being—on the unveiling that takes place, not in a book or in an
institution, but in a human being.
In you, in me, either the unveiling
of our heart takes place to see and to communicate with the living God in
Christ, or it does not. What matters is
not information, but formation: One must
be formed by Christ’s word, and respond with a quiet openness that allows the
unknown God to pull back the veil covering the human heart from divine
reality. When the unveiling occurs, then
one enters into “the Kingdom of God,” that is, then one lives in God and for
God. And that is a real spiritual
revolution.
