(Mt 16:13–27)

Who I Am, the Keys, the Faith, the Name

(Mt 16:13-23)

    More than halfway through his public life, Jesus has not yet offered any formulas, but poses a challenging question – one that demands far more of us than the usual legalistic expressions.

Broadly speaking, the crowd may have likened him to eminent figures such as John the Baptist [he who proved himself a stranger to courtly flattery] or Elijah [for his denunciation of idols] or Jeremiah [the opponent of the buying and selling of blessings].

But He did not come – like the ancient prophets – to improve the situation or patch up devotions, nor to purify the Temple, but rather to replace it!

Traditional imagery depicts Christ in many ways (for atheists, a philanthropist), the most widespread of which is still that of an ancient Lord, the guarantor of conventional behaviour.

He, however – to make us reflect – takes the disciples to a building site [in northern Palestine, Caesarea Philippi was under construction], far from the self-serving nomenclature of the ‘holy’ City.

The common mindset judged the success of life – and the truth of a religion – on the basis of success, dominance, enrichment, and security in general.

The question Jesus poses to his disciples reveals a novelty that supplants the entire system: the Call is addressed to every single person.

It is a proposal of the margins, akin to the symbolic geographical location of the capital of the kingdom of Philip, one of the three sons and heirs of Herod the Great: in Palestine, the point furthest from the centre of conformist religiosity.

The Face of the ‘Son of Man’ is recognisable only by placing oneself at the greatest possible distance from political schemes and the established order – otherwise we too would be unable to perceive his personal ‘light’.

In the community described in Matthew, there was indeed an experience of an ever-increasing participation of pagans, who previously felt excluded but were gradually integrating.

In our way of thinking, house keys are used to lock and bolt the door, to keep out intruders.

In the Semitic mindset, they were rather a symbol of opening the door.

In Perugino’s famous masterpiece on the north wall of the Sistine Chapel, Jesus hands the head of the Church two keys: the golden key to Paradise and the silver key to Purgatory.

But the meaning of the passage is not the Afterlife – indeed, it is not even institutional. In Hebrew, the term ‘key’ derives from the verb ‘to open’!

The primary missionary task of community leaders is to keep the Kingdom of Heaven wide open, that is, to ensure a welcoming Church!

Peter must not embody the type of arrogant monarch, an image of authority; a substitute for the emperor.

Simon must take primary responsibility for welcoming those who are outside.

This seems strange to any ancient conception, where it was assumed that God feared becoming defiled through contact with the world.

The Father is the One who dares the most.

This is why Jesus strictly imposes total messianic silence (v.20) upon the lips and the ancient minds of the Apostles.

Peter and the disciples wanted to return to the customary idea of ‘the’ Messiah [cf. Greek text] awaited by all.

A plotline that is all too ordinary, incapable of renewing us.

But who do you say that I am? Peter’s Faith

Distancing oneself from what is hoped for

Jesus leads his own away from the realm of the ideology of power and from the sacred centre of the official religious institution – Judea.

The Lord wants his inner circle to distance themselves from limitations and expectations.

The relative success achieved by the Master in Galilee had in fact rekindled the apostles’ hopes of (one-sided) glory.

The region of Caesarea Philippi, in the far north of Palestine, was enchanting; renowned for its fertility and lush pastures. An area famous for the beauty of its surroundings and the abundance of flocks and herds.

Even the disciples were captivated by the landscape and the comfortable life of the region’s inhabitants; not to mention the magnificence of the palaces.

The allusion to the setting refers to the comforts that pagan religion generally offers; excessive prosperity that enchanted the Twelve.

Christ asks the apostles – in effect – what the people expected of Him. In this way, He wants them to realise the harmful effects of their own preaching.

A ‘proclamation’ that readily conflated material and spiritual blessings.

Whilst the gods showed themselves capable of showering their devotees with riches – and a lavish court life that (precisely) captivated everyone – what does Christ offer?

The Master realises that the disciples were still heavily influenced by the propaganda of the political and religious establishment [vv. 6, 11] which promised prosperity [vv. 5–12; cf. Mt 15:32–38].

And Jesus instructs them further, so that at least his messengers might overcome the blindness and the crisis brought about by his Cross (v. 21), by the commitment required in the spirit of self-giving.

He is not merely a follower of the Baptist’s uncompromising stance, never inclined to compromise with the courts or opulence; nor is he one of the many restorers of the Law of Moses, with the zeal of Elijah.

Nor did he wish merely to purify religion of spurious elements, but even to take the place of the Temple [Mt 21:12–17, 18–19, 42; 23:2, 37–39; 24:30] – the place of encounter between the Father and his children.

On this matter, at that time the divisions were particularly acute, not only with regard to paganism, but also the conflicts between Jews who had converted to the Lord and those who observed the tradition.

Indeed, the sacred books of late Judaism spoke of great figures who had left their mark on the history of Israel, and who were expected to reappear to usher in the messianic age.

Even within the persecuted communities of Galilee and Syria, Matthew notes a lack of understanding and the great difficulty in embracing the new proposal – which offered no guarantee of success or recognition, nor any immediate rewards.

(From the very first generations, it was realised that Faith does not easily align with our first human impulses: indeed, it is disconcerting, given our obvious views and instincts).

Thus the Master contradicts Peter himself [vv.20.23], whose opinion remained tied to the conformist and popular notion of ‘the’ [vv.16.20: ‘that’] expected Messiah.

In short, the leader of the apostles – so weak in Faith – must stop pointing out to Christ which path to follow ‘behind’ him [v.23], leading him astray!

Simon must start being a disciple again; he must stop laying out recognised and opportunistic paths for everyone, hijacking God in God’s name.

The Lord is the One who dares the most.

A special note on the subject of the Name:

Whilst in our culture it is often merely a label, among Eastern peoples the name is one and the same with the person, and designates them in a special way.

As can be seen, for example, in the ‘second’ commandment, the power of the Name carries great weight: it is a matter of knowing the (divine) Subject in essence and in the sense of action; almost a taking hold of His power.

Even in our own tradition of prayer, spirituality and mysticism, the proper Name (e.g. Jesus) has often been regarded almost as an acoustic icon of the person, embodying his virtues; evocative of his presence and power.

In ancient cultures, uttering the name meant being able to grasp the seed, the pregnant and all-encompassing core of the figure in question.

Not infrequently, even in our own mindset, it has been intended to express an omen, a mandate, a wish, a blessing, a vocation, a destiny, a task, a call, a mission [nomen (est) omen].

But here lies the difference between a sacred mindset and Faith. In religions, the proper name that the master or founder bestows upon the disciple is a sort of signpost: he who lacks the insight or fortune, strength and courage to realise it would diminish in dignity.

Christ, however, with his appellations, calls us to walk a path, certainly – but one deeply commensurate with the essence.

He urges us to set out on a journey – not according to set patterns – because first he brings the person back into themselves. So that we all commit ourselves deeply and to the extent that is required.

First step: to encounter ourselves in our entirety; in our various facets, even the surprising, unexpressed or unknown ones – generally, traits unimaginable according to rules and classifications.

Even our eccentric, ambiguous, hidden or even personally rejected ways of being: along the Way, these will reveal the best sides of ourselves.

Only on this plural track do we find the path to an adventure rich in meaning; not mechanical, nor repetitive – but rather like life itself: always new and authentic.

Not starting from superficial appearances or calculation: there is an Author’s signature that precedes us, in the building of ourselves and the world.

Passing through the various building sites in the city of Philip, Jesus instead chose to compare Simon to the inert, piled-up materials (even in a haphazard manner) that lay before him.

That condition struck at the root of the apostles’ expectations!

The disciples had not yet made room within themselves for the Mystery, for the idea of a secret salvation that bursts forth with its own innate energy; that surpasses common dreams.

Cephas, in fact, derives from the Aramaic Kefas: a building stone; something hard: practically, a stubborn man like so many others; nothing special, quite the contrary. Jesus gives Simon a negative nickname!

In fact, the Greek term ‘petros’ [v.18] is not a proper name: it denotes a stone (picked up from the ground) which can indeed be useful for building – provided, of course, it is shaped to fit. And which not only supports, but is supported; which not only brings together, but is brought together.

Note: the Greek term ‘petra’ [v.18] is not the feminine form of ‘petros’: it means ‘rock’, and refers to the Person of Christ, our only security (together with Faith in Him).

A name that unpredictably changes a whole life. For it is only the inner Friend who draws from our [even flawed] baggage the unexpected that springs forth.

Each one is chiselled by the Lord according to the name Peter, in the sense of a particular piece, an individual and special element.

Placed in a unique way yet within a great mosaic: that of the history of salvation, where each one is simultaneously oneself and in a continuous phase of regeneration.

The sole sense of belonging among the many building stones (all living): the conviviality of differences, the communion of disparate fraternal members within the ministerial Church.

None forever, but everywhere (ceaselessly) pulsating nuclei of a humble institution, entirely gathered from the earth... Freed without cost.

Reputation: the crossroads of the Cross

(Mt 16:24-27)

    To lose one’s life or to forfeit it? To save it or to find it? Christ desires to lead us to the Homeland that corresponds to us deeply.

He proposes this by sharing the pilgrimage, in exploration; together with Him and our brothers and sisters.

As we proceed, what we do is motivated by the search for the fullness of being and happiness – even the risk.

We have become passionate about the journey in the Spirit for the very same reason: to experience an increase in life.

Yet in the Master’s proposal we discern a disconcerting logic.

To shield ourselves from vain illusions (which degrade us), we must not rush to seize prestigious roles, possessions or relationships that matter.

The most attractive and conspicuous things remain external and barren. They do not regenerate. 

Instead… waiting, listening, the practice of passive virtues, bitterness and defeat, call us to turn inwards.

Setback is a call that is preparing the most relevant and well-founded future developments, precisely in favour of a full life.

Of course, those who do not join in the rush for titles and the charade of social ceremonies may immediately suffer the worst. But this is better than losing the quality and fruitfulness of life, squandering them in misunderstanding.

Often our ‘leaving everything behind’ to follow Christ is itself for an expected and hoped-for gain. Even a ‘good’ one: immediately relational, qualitative, and cultural, for example

[The guides spoke to us in this regard of the vice of “spiritual gluttony”: the aim is to learn interesting things, to have good and substantial company, to increase one’s knowledge, to find well-founded ways to be praised, etc.].

The point is that the imagined positive outcome is always shaped by old intentions. Ultimately, to assert oneself, to shine and to command; not to “lose”.

Not to ‘give in’. Not to allow other energies and horizons to enter into situations, and to surface – paradoxically – within us.

On this unappealing terrain – which in Christ will become overflowing with grace, fruitful, and deeply formative – even those who do not fear sacrifice may waver, because the Way of the Crucified One seems to lead us straight to mockery and failure.

Yet the profound and seemingly absurd rationale of the new Magisterium emerges; without ulterior motives.

Engagement with the Word helps us increasingly to realise that it is necessary to introduce into the soul of each person a new frame of reference: personal, social, communal.

The old, secure and triumphant context helped to build an impressive framework, but one that clashes with the meaning of the Good News of Salvation.

Life as the saved is for everyone. A transparent Proclamation, now: of boundless Beatitudes in favour of the meek, the humiliated and the neglected, those in need of everything.

Even for Jesus, the evangelisation of the Apostles and of his ‘neighbours’ – all intent on softening and toning down his immoderate Dreams – was no walk in the park.

Just like the Lord, even today true Proclaimers must already reckon with afflictions, and traps, shoves, mockery, derision (the most surprising of all).

But we must not give up, not least because the embarrassment of those who suddenly find themselves led not onto a triumphant path is understandable. Not onto a breathtaking trail, dotted with honourable and exhilarating milestones.

Rather, a path of truth and self-giving that is discarded and rejected – no longer sugar-coated, superficial, or contraband.

One can tolerate this, after all, with a sense of realism; just as Jesus did with his Peter. In short, this strand too may form part of the new balance that the Spirit is building.

Yes, the institutional and compromising [“Petrine”] aspect often seeks to take the initiative and exorcise Jesus’ Call; to silence it, in favour of displaying its superpowers.

Yet the Master does not allow himself to be held hostage – indeed, it is He who has put the leader of the disciples in his place (vv.22-23).

The cross was a death penalty and a perpetual disgrace reserved for rebellious slaves; outlaws, subversives, misfits who refused their position of social marginalisation.

This is what it all comes down to: agreeing to raise the horizontal beam of the public gallows behind Jesus still means, even today, forgetting one’s ‘reputation’, being shamed.

Not for the sake of asceticism, nor any particular form of perfectionism.

To strip oneself of superfluous possessions, to lose prestige and status, to be shamed, to let others go ahead [even if they manipulate us: for sooner or later they will realise].

So that we may allow Providence time to prepare us.

The life to come will call upon other energies, arranging events in a manner more mysterious than obvious.

It will bring into play diverse – converging – personal and social virtues that are cosmic and intimately humanising; acutely fascinating and springing forth.

We are experiencing this in a time of crisis and turmoil, for a ‘rebirth’ that demands new beginnings; one that seems to have no desire whatsoever to conform to the past age.

Indeed, in the storm, the passion of love has its preparatory stages, of the highest order, which sooner or later will bring forth authentic and eminent awareness. And the fraternal spirit nestled in everyone’s soul.

The perspective is, in this sense, personal, but not individualistic; rather, it is that of the ‘Son of Man’: He who allows us to glimpse the human dimension, accessible and divinising.

But we must be aware of it: let us help one another to grasp Him as Present (vv. 27–28)!

Indeed, in the Gospels, the ‘Son of God’ is Christ who reveals the Father, unveiling God in the human condition. The ‘Son of Man’ is Jesus who reveals man in the divine condition.

The ‘Son of Man’ is He who, having pushed himself to the utmost of love in the fullness of Personhood, comes to reflect the divine condition, displaying and radiating it in eminent signs.

He does so without the narrow perspectives typical of religions; without even a legacy of ‘correct’ and unchanging ideas, or forces of increasing intensity and ever-improving performance.

‘Son of Man’ is the successful Son: the Person who has taken the definitive step.

The Word who became our neighbour, who within us aspires to the fullness spread throughout history, to an indestructible calibre within everyone he approaches (and encounters heartfelt divine figures, sublime traits of humanisation).

We therefore risk living ‘with’ and ‘for’ others, setting aside the pursuit of esteem, and losing credit [not seeking to gain it at all costs].

We do so with conviction; embracing our own distinctive Calling, experiencing the Father who provides for us.

In this way, we shall succeed in lifting up the blossoming Cross, which fertilises the soul and the world around us.

An experience from which there is no turning back – so sublime is it, with boundless horizons, impossible to imagine or set as a goal, due to sterile ‘nature’.

On this ray of light and with a new Name, even amidst the great hardships of our time we shall be like the Friend-Guide: genuine, not conformist; resting on the core of being, yet standing firm on unexplored paths.

Simultaneously committed and serene. Less mundane, through personal contact.

To internalise and live the message:

In what sense have you experienced life gained, after having ‘lost’ it? By drawing on which dormant energies? On which unexplored paths?

Dear Brothers and Sisters, 

Today too, the Apostle Peter, like last Sunday, appears in the foreground of the Gospel. However, whereas last Sunday we admired him for his forthright faith in Jesus, whom he proclaimed the Messiah and Son of God, this time, in the episode that immediately follows, he shows a faith that is still immature and too closely bound to the mentality of "this world" (cf. Rm 12: 2). Indeed, when Jesus begins to speak openly of the fate that awaits him in Jerusalem, in other words that he will have to suffer many things and be killed in order subsequently to be raised, Peter protests saying: "God forbid, Lord! This shall never happen to you" (Mt 16: 22). It is obvious that the Teacher and the disciple follow two opposite ways of thinking. Peter, in accordance with a human logic, is convinced that God would never permit his Son to end his mission by dying on the Cross. Jesus, on the contrary, knows that in his immense love for mankind the Father sent him to give his life for them and that if this should involve the Passion and the Cross, it is right that it should happen in this manner. Moreover he knows that the last word will be the Resurrection. Although Peter's protest was spoken in good faith and for sincere love of the Master, to Jesus it sounds like a temptation, an invitation to save himself, whereas it is only by losing his life that he will receive new and eternal life for us all. 

If, to save us, the Son of God had to suffer and die on the Cross, it was certainly not by a cruel design of the heavenly Father. The reason is the gravity of the illness from which he came to heal us: it was such a serious, mortal disease that it required all his Blood. Indeed, it was with his death and Resurrection that Jesus defeated sin and death and re-established God's lordship. Yet the battle is not over. Evil exists and resists in every generation, as we know, in our day too. What are the horrors of war, violence to the innocent, the wretchedness and injustice unleashed against the weak other than the opposition of evil to the Kingdom of God? And how is it possible to respond to so much wickedness except with the unarmed and disarming power of love that conquers hatred and of life that has no fear of death? It is the same mysterious power that Jesus used, at the cost of being misunderstood and abandoned by many of his own. 

Dear brothers and sisters, in order to bring the work of salvation fully to completion, the Redeemer continues to associate to himself and his mission men and women who are prepared to take up their cross and follow him. Consequently, just as for Christ carrying the cross was not an option but a mission to be embraced for love, so it is for Christians too. In our world today, where the forces that divide and destroy seem to dominate, Christ does not cease to offer to all his clear invitation: anyone who wants to be my disciple must renounce his own selfishness and carry the cross with me. Let us invoke the help of the Blessed Virgin who followed Jesus first and to the very end on the way of the Cross. May she help us to walk in the Lord's footsteps with determination, to experience from this moment, even in trial, the glory of the Resurrection.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus, 31 August 2008]

1. In Jesus’ messianic mission there is a culminating and central point, towards which we have gradually been drawing in the previous catechesis: Christ was sent by God into the world to bring about the redemption of humankind through the sacrifice of his own life. This sacrifice was to take the form of ‘emptying’ himself in obedience even unto death on the cross: a death which, in the eyes of his contemporaries, bore a particular mark of ignominy.

Throughout his preaching and in all his conduct, Jesus is guided by a profound awareness of God’s plans for his life and death within the economy of the messianic mission, with the certainty that these plans spring from the Father’s eternal love for the world and, in particular, for humankind.

2. If we consider the years of his adolescence, the words of the twelve-year-old Jesus, addressed to Mary and Joseph at the time of his ‘rediscovery’ in the Temple in Jerusalem, give much food for thought: ‘Did you not know that I must be about my Father’s business?’ (Luke 2:49). What was on his mind and in his heart? We can deduce this from many other expressions of his thoughts throughout his public life. From the very beginning of his messianic ministry, Jesus insisted on instilling in his disciples the concept that ‘the Son of Man . . . must suffer greatly’ (Luke 9:22), that is, that he must be ‘rejected by the elders, the chief priests and the scribes, and then put to death (and, after three days, rise again)’ (Mark 8:31). But all this does not stem solely from human beings, from their hostility towards his person and his teaching; rather, it constitutes the fulfilment of God’s eternal plans, as foretold in the Scriptures containing divine revelation: “How is it written concerning the Son of Man? That he must suffer greatly and be despised” (Mk 9:12).

3. When Peter tries to deny this possibility (‘… this will never happen to you’) (Mt 16:22), Jesus rebukes him with particularly harsh words: ‘Get behind me, Satan! For you are not setting your mind on the things of God, but on the things of men’ (Mk 8:33). The eloquence of these words is striking; through them, Jesus seeks to make Peter understand that to oppose the way of the cross is to reject the very plans of God himself. ‘Satan’ is precisely the one who, ‘from the very beginning’, has been in opposition to ‘what is of God’.

4. Jesus is therefore aware both of humanity’s responsibility for his death on the cross—which he will face as a result of a sentence handed down by earthly courts—and of the fact that through this human sentence the eternal divine plan will be fulfilled: that ‘which is of God’, that is, the sacrifice offered on the cross for the redemption of the world. And even though Jesus (like God himself) does not will the evil of the ‘deicide’ committed by men, he nevertheless accepts this evil in order to bring about the good of the world’s salvation.

5. After the Resurrection, whilst walking unrecognised with two of his disciples towards Emmaus, he explains the ‘Scriptures’ of the Old Testament to them in these terms: ‘Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into his glory?’ (Lk 24:26). And on the occasion of his final meeting with the apostles, he declared: ‘These are the words I spoke to you whilst I was still with you: everything written about me in the Law of Moses, the Prophets and the Psalms must be fulfilled’ (Luke 24:44).

6. In the light of the events of Easter, the apostles came to understand what Jesus had told them beforehand. Peter, who—out of love for the Master, but also through a lack of understanding—seemed to oppose his cruel fate in particular, would say to his listeners in Jerusalem on the day of Pentecost, speaking of Christ: “This man . . . who, according to God’s predetermined plan and foreknowledge, was handed over to you; you, by the hands of lawless men, nailed him to the cross and put him to death . . .” (Acts 2:22–23). And he will add once more: “God has thus fulfilled what he had foretold through all the prophets, namely that his Christ would die” (Acts 3:18).

7. The passion and death of Christ were foretold in the Old Testament not as the end of his mission, but as the indispensable ‘passage’ required for him to be exalted by God. This is made clear to us in particular by the song of Isaiah, which speaks of the Servant of the Lord as the ‘Man of Sorrows’: ‘Behold, my servant shall prosper; he shall be exalted and lifted up, and greatly exalted’ (Isaiah 52:13). And Jesus himself, when he foretells that ‘the Son of Man . . . will be killed’, also adds that ‘after three days he will rise again’ (cf. Mk 8:31).

8. We are therefore faced with a divine plan which, even though it appears so evident when considered in the light of the events described in the Gospels, remains nonetheless a mystery that cannot be fully explained by human reason. In this spirit, the Apostle Paul expresses himself with that magnificent paradox: ‘For what is foolishness to God is wiser than human wisdom, and what is weakness to God is stronger than human strength’ (1 Cor 1:25). These words of Paul concerning the cross of Christ are irreplaceable. But it is also true that whilst it is difficult for human beings to find a rationally satisfactory answer to the question ‘why the cross of Christ?’, the answer to this question comes to us once again from the Word of God.

9. Jesus himself formulates this answer: ‘For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life’ (John 3:16). When Jesus spoke these words during his night-time conversation with Nicodemus, his interlocutor probably could not yet have imagined that the phrase ‘gave his Son’ meant ‘gave him up to death on the cross’. But John, who recounts this in his Gospel, understood its meaning perfectly well. The unfolding of events had shown that this was precisely the meaning of the answer to Nicodemus: God ‘gave’ his only Son for the salvation of the world, giving him up to death on the cross for the sins of the world, giving him out of love: ‘God . . . so loved the world’, creation, mankind! Love remains the definitive explanation of redemption through the cross. It is the only answer to the question ‘why?’ concerning Christ’s death as part of God’s eternal plan.

The author of the Fourth Gospel, in which we find the text of Christ’s reply to Nicodemus, will return to the same concept again in one of his letters: ‘This is what love consists in: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as a sacrifice of atonement for our sins’ (1 John 4:10).

10. This is a love that transcends justice itself. Justice may concern and apply to the one who has committed a wrong. If it is an innocent person who suffers, then there is no question of justice. If an innocent person who is holy, like Christ, freely offers himself up to suffering and death on the cross, in order to fulfil the Father’s eternal plan, this means that God, in the sacrifice of his Son, goes, in a certain sense, beyond the order of justice to reveal himself in this Son and through him in all the richness of his mercy — Rich in Mercy (Eph 2:4) — almost as if to introduce, together with this crucified and risen Son, his mercy, his merciful love, into the history of the relationship between humankind and God.

It is precisely through this merciful love that humankind is called to overcome evil and sin within themselves and in relation to others: ‘Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy’ (Mt 5:7). ‘God demonstrates his love for us in that, whilst we were still sinners, Christ died for us’, as Saint Paul would write (Rom 5:8) .

11. The Apostle returns to this theme at various points in his letters, in which the triad of ‘redemption – justice – love’ frequently recurs.

‘All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, but they are justified freely by his grace, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus . . . through his blood . . .’ (Rom 3:23–25). In this way, God shows that he is not content merely with the rigour of justice—which punishes evil when it sees it—but that he has chosen to triumph over sin in another way, namely by offering the possibility of deliverance from it. God has chosen to reveal his righteousness in a positive way by giving sinners the opportunity to become righteous through their faith in Christ the Redeemer. Thus God ‘is just and justifies’ (Rom 3:26). This takes place in a profoundly astonishing way, for ‘God made him who knew no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God’ (2 Cor 5:21).

12. He who ‘knew no sin’ – the Son consubstantial with the Father – took upon himself the terrible yoke of the sin of all humanity, in order to secure our justification and sanctification. Here is God’s love revealed in the Son. Through the Son, the love of the Father was revealed: “who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all” (Rom 8:32). To grasp the full significance of these words—“did not spare”—it may be helpful to recall the sacrifice of Abraham, who had shown himself ready to “not spare his beloved son” (Gen 22:16) ; God, however, had spared him (Gen 22:12). His own only-begotten Son, on the other hand, God “did not spare, but handed him over” to death for our salvation.

13. From this springs the Apostle’s certainty that no one and nothing—“neither death, nor life, nor angels . . . nor any other creature—will ever be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom 8:38–39). Together with Paul, the whole Church is certain of this love of God “which surpasses all things”, the final word of God’s self-revelation in the history of humankind and the world, the supreme self-communication which takes place through the cross, at the heart of the Paschal Mystery of Jesus Christ.

[John Paul II, General Audience, 7 September 1988]

Today’s Gospel passage (cf. Mt 16:21-27) is linked to that of last Sunday (cf. Mt 16:13-20). After Peter, on behalf of the other disciples as well, has professed his faith in Jesus as Messiah and Son of God, Jesus himself begins to speak to them about his Passion. Along the path to Jerusalem, he openly explains to his friends what awaits him at the end in the Holy City: he foretells the mystery of his death and Resurrection, of his humiliation and glory. He says that he will have to “suffer many things from the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised” (Mt 16:21). But his words are not understood, because the disciples have a faith that is still immature and too closely tied to the mentality of this world (cf. Rom 12:2). They think of too earthly a victory, and therefore they do not understand the language of the cross.

At the prospect that Jesus may fail and die on the cross, Peter himself rebels and says to Him: “God forbid, Lord! This shall never happen to you!” (v. 22). He believes in Jesus — Peter is like this — he has faith, he believes in Jesus; he believes; he wants to follow him, but does not accept that his glory will pass through the Passion. For Peter and the other disciples — but for us too! — the cross is an uncomfortable thing, the cross is a “hindrance”, whereas Jesus considers the “hindrance” escaping the cross, which would mean avoiding the Father’s will, the mission that the Father has entrusted to him for our salvation. For this reason Jesus responds to Peter: “Get behind me, Satan! You are a hindrance to me; for you are not on the side of God, but of men” (v. 23). Ten minutes earlier, Jesus had praised Peter. He had promised him he would be the base of his Church, its foundation; ten minutes later he says to him, “Satan”. How can this be understood? It happens to us all! In moments of devotion, of fervour, of good will, of closeness to our neighbour, we look to Jesus and we go forward; but in moments in which we approach the cross, we flee. The devil, Satan — as Jesus says to Peter — tempts us. It is typical of the evil spirit, it is typical of the devil to make us stray from the cross, from the cross of Jesus.

Addressing everyone then, Jesus adds: “If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me” (v. 24). In this way he indicates the way of the true disciple, showing two attitudes. The first is “to renounce oneself”, which does not mean a superficial change, but a conversion, a reversal of mentality and of values. The other attitude is that of taking up one’s own cross. It is not just a matter of patiently enduring daily tribulations, but of bearing with faith and responsibility that part of toil, and that part of suffering that the struggle against evil entails. The life of Christians is always a struggle. The Bible says that the life of Christians is a military undertaking: fighting against the evil spirit, fighting against Evil.

Thus the task of “taking up the cross” becomes participating with Christ in the salvation of the world. Considering this, let us make sure that the cross hanging on the wall at home, or that little one that we wear around our neck, is a sign of our wish to be united with Christ in lovingly serving our brothers and sisters, especially the littlest and most fragile. The cross is the holy sign of God’s Love, it is a sign of Jesus’ Sacrifice, and is not to be reduced to a superstitious object or an ornamental necklace. Each time we fix our gaze on the image of Christ crucified, let us contemplate that he, as the true Servant of the Lord, has accomplished his mission, giving life, spilling his blood for the pardoning of sins. And let us not allow ourselves to be drawn to the other side by the temptation of the Evil One. Therefore, if we want to be his disciples, we are called to imitate him, expending our life unreservedly out of love of God and neighbour.

May the Virgin Mary, united to her Son unto Calvary, help us not to retreat in the face of the trials and suffering that witnessing to the Gospel entails.

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 30 August 2020]

(Mk 6:17-29)

The question «Jesus, Who is he?» grows throughout the Gospel according to Mk, up to the answer of the centurion under the Cross (15:39).

The assessment of the opinions of the people (vv.14-16) suggests that even around the first assemblies of believers someone tried to understand Christ starting from what was already known.

Not a few wished to understand his Person on the basis of criteria drawn from the Scriptures or from the Oral Tradition of the Chosen People; from ancient beliefs and suggestions - even superstitious (as in the case of Herod).

But the Herald of God was not a purifier of the Temple, nor was He a simple healer of dated religiosity, of domesticated cultural ideas. Not even one of the many "reformers"... all in all conformists.

He overturns the hopes of the people, thus disturbing any school of thought; in particular, those who hold the exclusivity.

When feel a danger, those who are shrouded in luster and power become brazen and willing to do any violence, even for a false point of honor.

Tyrants always scoff at the isolated, uncomfortable and defenseless.

But leaders and powerful are also cowards: they do not intend to lose face in front of the allies of their immoderate and uncontrolled environment, cloaked in exemptions.

Josephus [Flavius] reports that John was in prison for fear of a popular uprising - evaluating that it was good for him to act early.

The assassination plot was occasional.

The brave one who denounces abuses is cut off, but the Voice of his martyrdom is no longer silent.

For this reason the episode does not lead Jesus to greater prudence.  Once an Envoy is killed, another greater and more incisive takes over: the last of the Prophets, the Son of God.

It seemed absurd that someone in that society dared to break the conspiratorial wall that guaranteed the troublemakers to consider themselves untouchable.

Faced with the unceremonious blackmail of the privileged who had control of every social and cultural class, it seemed impossible to start a new path, or to say and do anything that was not aligned.

John and Jesus challenge the status quo and attract upon themselves the vengeance of those who try to perpetuate the prerogatives of the ancient hierarchical cosmos, and the anger of those who are exposed in their hypocrisy.

This is the real difficulty encountered in the proclamation of the new Kingdom in the world. His contemptuous refusal and every attempted murder will be a litmus test of our noble critical frankness, the ‘revelation’ of which will run parallel the Two.

The Master stood up in defense of conscience and of the divine law itself, against the opportunist authorities, which he challenged openly.

Even today he asks for courage not to surrender in the face of corruption, evil, the current mentality; to be different in the way of thinking, speaking, choosing and acting.

Not listened to, derided, opposed by many courtiers, the children of God bear witness to the Truth, paying in person: perfect Joy.

Authentic Fullness.

To internalize and live the message:

Who is Jesus according to you and the others?

[Martyrdom of St. John the Baptist, August 29]

(Mk 6:17-29)

The question "Jesus, Who is He?" grows throughout the Gospel of Mark, up to the centurion's answer under the Cross (Mk 15:39).

The balance of people's opinions (Mt 14:1-2; Mk 6:14-16; Lk 9:7-9) suggests that even around the first assemblies of believers there was an attempt to understand Christ from what was already known [from the criteria of Scripture and tradition, from ancient - even superstitious - beliefs and suggestions].

But the man of God is not simply a purifier of the Temple, nor a patchworker of conformist religiosity. He overturns popular, emotional or standard hopes.

In this way, each Prophet disquiets all those who hold the exclusive.

When he senses danger, those cloaked in lustre and power become brazen and willing to any violence, even for a false point of honour.

Tyrants always make a mockery of the isolated, inconvenient and defenceless, but leaders and potentates are also cowards: they do not intend to lose face in front of the allies of their inordinate and unchecked environment, cloaked in exemptions.

During more than 40 years of his reign, Herod Antipas had created a class of officials and a system of privileged people who had the government, the treasury, the economy, justice, every aspect of civil and police life in their hands, and his command covered the territory capillarly.

In every village, the ruler could count on the support of all the cliques and various local leaders, interested in controlling the consciences - along with compromised scribes and Pharisees, linked to his politics.

Apart from being a puppet of Rome - to which he guaranteed control of the territory and the flow of taxes - Herod was depraved and superstitious: he thought that even a light oath to a dancer should be kept.

Josephus Flavius, on the other hand, reports that John was in prison due to the ruler's fear of a popular uprising - and was considering that it was good for him to act in advance. The assassination plot was probably casual.

The courageous person who denounces abuse is crushed, but the voice of his martyrdom will never be silenced again.

This is why the episode does not induce Jesus to greater caution. Once a prophet is killed, another greater and more incisive one takes his place: the last of the Prophets, the Son of God.

Delinquents should not delude themselves that Providence does not know how to equip even the higher (and more wimpy) echelons with the counterpart of consistent and good people.

Both John and the Lord never visited the new Herodian capital, Tiberias, the city of courtly palaces, built - after Sefforis, where Jesus also worked - in diplomatic homage to the Roman emperor.

Generic and confusing religiosity can adapt to any season and be adopted even by those who think that other people's lives are worth nothing, but a Prophet does not stop at the whim of the corrupt system.

In the Palestinian villages, people's lives were harassed with taxes and abuses by landowners [who did not even reside there]; controlled by the perfect marriage of interests between civil and religious powers - who cunningly attempted to impose their way of life and impart established (useless) knowledge to the crowds.

The leaders of the popular, orthodox and compliant faith - as is often the case - were on the leash of the authorities on the ground, who considered themselves definitive and found strength in the coalition.

It seemed absurd that anyone in that society would dare to break the wall of silence that ensured that troublemakers, 'spiritual' authorities and even low-level bullies could consider themselves untouchable.

Faced with the [unceremonious] blackmail of the privileged who were in control of every social and cultural stratum, it seemed impossible to start a new path, or to say and do anything unaligned.

John and Jesus challenge the status quo and attract the vengeance of those who seek to perpetuate the prerogatives of the ancient hierarchical cosmos, and the anger of those who are exposed in their hypocrisies.

This is the real difficulty that the proclamation of the new kingdom encounters in the world. Its scornful rejection and every assassination attempt will be a litmus test of the critical prophecy, whose revelation will run parallel to the Two.

The Baptiser was an intrepid denouncer of vice, superficiality, malpractice, and the perversions of the powerful.

Pope Francis would have spoken of good manners (in the pursuit of ropey alliances) and bad habits - in the irresponsible and insulting private life, and in the violence with which dominion over the little ones is perpetuated.

Jesus, too, put his foot down, instead of making an internal career. In spite of John's foreboding, he rejected the path of weighed-up guile, pretense, diplomacy and pirouettes of circumstance.The Master stood in defence of conscience and divine law itself, against opportunistic religious and political authorities, whom he challenged head-on.

The Lord asks for the courage not to bend in the face of corruption, evil, the current mentality; to be different in the way of thinking, speaking (mellifluous), choosing and acting.

Unheard, laughed at, opposed by lords, luminaries and courtiers, the children of God bear witness to the Truth, paying their own way: perfect Gladness.

Authentic Fullness.

To internalise and live the message:

Do you know victims of authoritarianism, corruption, domination of the powerful, excess and extravagance of power? Even in the Church?

How is it that this still happens (and everything is silenced sooner or later)?

Who is Jesus according to you and others? And what would you say?

Dear brothers and sisters,

[...] the liturgical Memorial of the martyrdom of St John the Baptist, the Precursor of Jesus. In the Roman Calendar, he is the only saint whose birth and death, through martyrdom, are celebrated on the same day (in his case, 24 June). Today’s Memorial commemoration dates back to the dedication of a crypt in Sebaste, Samaria, where his head had already been venerated since the middle of the fourth century. The devotion later extended to Jerusalem, both in the Churches of the East and in Rome, with the title of the Beheading of St John the Baptist. In the Roman Martyrology reference is made to a second discovery of the precious relic, translated for the occasion to the Church of San Silvestro in Campo Marzio, Rome.

These small historical references help us to understand how ancient and deeply-rooted is the veneration of John the Baptist. His role in relation to Jesus stands out clearly in the Gospels. St Luke in particular recounts his birth, his life in the wilderness and his preaching, while in today’s Gospel St Mark tells us of his dramatic death. John the Baptist began his preaching under the Emperor Tiberius in about 27-28 A.D., and the unambiguous invitation he addressed to the people, who flocked to listen to him, was to prepare the way to welcome the Lord, to straighten the crooked paths of their lives through a radical conversion of heart (cf. Lk 3:4).

However, John the Baptist did not limit himself to teaching repentance or conversion. Instead, in recognizing Jesus as the “Lamb of God” who came to take away the sin of the world (Jn 1:29), he had the profound humility to hold up Jesus as the One sent by God, drawing back so that he might take the lead, and be heard and followed. As his last act the Baptist witnessed with his blood to faithfulness to God’s commandments, without giving in or withdrawing, carrying out his mission to the very end. In the 9th century the Venerable Bede says in one of his Homilies: “St John gave his life for [Christ]. He was not ordered to deny Jesus Christ, but was ordered to keep silent about the truth” (cf. Homily 23: CCL 122, 354). And he did not keep silent about the truth and thus died for Christ who is the Truth. Precisely for love of the truth he did not stoop to compromises and did not fear to address strong words to anyone who had strayed from God’s path.

We see this great figure, this force in the Passion, in resistance to the powerful. We wonder: what gave birth to this life, to this interiority so strong, so upright, so consistent, spent so totally for God in preparing the way for Jesus? The answer is simple: it was born from the relationship with God, from prayer, which was the thread that guided him throughout his existence. John was the divine gift for which his parents Zechariah and Elizabeth had been praying for so many years (cf. Lk 1:13); a great gift, humanly impossible to hope for, because they were both advanced in years and Elizabeth was barren (cf. Lk 1:7); yet nothing is impossible to God (cf. Lk 1:36). The announcement of this birth happened precisely in the place of prayer, in the temple of Jerusalem, indeed it happened when Zechariah had the great privilege of entering the holiest place in the temple to offer incense to the Lord (cf. Lk 1:8-20). John the Baptist’s birth was also marked by prayer: the Benedictus, the hymn of joy, praise and thanksgiving which Zechariah raises to the Lord and which we recite every morning in Lauds, exalts God’s action in history and prophetically indicates the mission of their son John: to go before the Son of God made flesh to prepare his ways (cf. Lk 1:67-79).

The entire existence of the Forerunner of Jesus was nourished by his relationship with God, particularly the period he spent in desert regions (cf. Lk 1:80). The desert regions are places of temptation but also where man acquires a sense of his own poverty because once deprived of material support and security, he understands that the only steadfast reference point is God himself. John the Baptist, however, is not only a man of prayer, in permanent contact with God, but also a guide in this relationship. The Evangelist Luke, recalling the prayer that Jesus taught his disciples, the Our Father, notes that the request was formulated by the disciples in these words: “Lord, teach us to pray, just as John taught his own disciples” (cf. Lk 11:1).

Dear brothers and sisters, celebrating the martyrdom of St John the Baptist reminds us too, Christians of this time, that with love for Christ, for his words and for the Truth, we cannot stoop to compromises. The Truth is Truth; there are no compromises. Christian life demands, so to speak, the “martyrdom” of daily fidelity to the Gospel, the courage, that is, to let Christ grow within us and let him be the One who guides our thought and our actions. However, this can happen in our life only if we have a solid relationship with God. Prayer is not time wasted, it does not take away time from our activities, even apostolic activities, but exactly the opposite is true: only if we are able to have a faithful, constant and trusting life of prayer will God himself give us the ability and strength to live happily and serenely, to surmount difficulties and to witness courageously to him. St John the Baptist, intercede for us, that we may be ever able to preserve the primacy of God in our life. Thank you.

[Pope Benedict, General Audience 29 August 2012]

1. Today, 29 August, Christian tradition commemorates the martyrdom of St John the Baptist; the Messiah himself says in praise of him: "none born of woman is greater" (cf. Lk 7: 28). He gave to God the supreme witness of his blood, sacrificing his life for truth and justice; indeed, his head was cut off at the orders of Herod, whom he had dared to tell that it was not lawful to take his brother's wife (cf. Mc 6: 17-29).

2. In the Encyclical Veritatis Splendor, recalling the sacrifice of John the Baptist (cf. n. 91), I observed that martyrdom is "an outstanding sign of the holiness of the Church" (n. 93). Indeed, it "represents the high point of the witness to moral truth" (ibid.).

Although relatively few are called to make this supreme sacrifice, it is nonetheless "a consistent witness which all Christians must daily be ready to make, even at the cost of suffering and grave sacrifice" (ibid.). At times, a truly heroic effort is also needed in daily life, in order not to give in to the difficulties that are an incentive to compromise and to live the Gospel "sine glossa".

3. The heroic example of John the Baptist reminds us of the martyrs for the faith who down the centuries followed courageously in his footsteps. I recall in particular the multitude of Christians in the last century who were also victims of religious hatred in various European nations. Today too, in some parts of the world, believers are still subjected to harsh trials for adhering to Christ and his Church.

May these brothers and sisters of ours feel the full solidarity of the entire Ecclesial Community! Let us entrust them to the Blessed Virgin, Queen of Martyrs, whom we call on together at this moment.

[Pope John Paul II, Angelus 29 August 2004]

A man, John, and a road, which is that of Jesus, indicated by the Baptist, but is also ours, in which we are all called at the moment of trial.

It starts from the figure of John, "the great John: in the words of Jesus "the greatest man born of a woman"" the reflection of Pope Francis in the Mass celebrated at Santa Marta on Friday 6 February. The Gospel of Mark (6:14-29) recounts the imprisonment and martyrdom of this "man faithful to his mission; the man who suffered many temptations" and who "never, never betrayed his vocation". A man 'faithful' and 'of great authority, respected by all: the great of that time'.

Pope Francis paused to analyse his figure: 'What came out of his mouth was right. His heart was just'. He was so great that "Jesus will also say of him that 'it is Elijah who has returned, to clean the house, to prepare the way'". And John "was conscious that his duty was only to proclaim: to announce the proximity of the Messiah. He was conscious, as St Augustine makes us reflect, that he was the voice only, the Word was another'. Even when "he was tempted to "rob" this truth, he remained just: "I am not, behind me comes, but I am not: I am the servant; I am the servant; I am the one who opens the doors, so that he may come".

At this point the Pontiff introduced the concept of the way, because, he recalled, 'John is the forerunner: forerunner not only of the Lord's entry into public life, but of the Lord's entire life'. The Baptist 'goes forward in the Lord's way; he bears witness to the Lord not only by showing him - "This is it!" - but also by bringing life to the end as the Lord has brought it'. And by ending his life "with martyrdom" he was "a forerunner of the life and death of Jesus Christ".

The Pope went on to reflect on these parallel paths along which "the great" suffers "many trials and becomes small, small, small to the point of contempt". John, like Jesus, "annihilates himself, he knows the road of annihilation. John, with all that authority, thinking about his life, comparing it with that of Jesus, tells people who he is, what his life will be like: 'It is better for him to grow, I instead must diminish'". This, the Pope stressed, is "the life of John: to diminish before Christ, so that Christ may grow". It is "the life of the servant who makes room, makes way for the Lord to come".

John's life "was not easy": in fact, "when Jesus began his public life", he was "close to the Essenes, that is, to the observants of the law, but also of prayers, of penances". Thus, at a certain point, during the time he was in prison, 'he suffered the ordeal of darkness, of the night in his soul'. And that scene, Francis commented, "moved: the great, the greatest sent two disciples to Jesus to ask him: 'But John asks you: is it you or have I made a mistake and must we wait for someone else?'" Along John's path therefore came 'the darkness of error, the darkness of a life burnt in error. And this was a cross for him".

To John's question "Jesus answers with the words of Isaiah": the Baptist "understands, but his heart remains in darkness". Nevertheless he lends himself to the demands of the king, 'who liked to hear him, who liked to lead an adulterous life', and 'almost became a court preacher, of this perplexed king'. But "he humbled himself" because "he thought he was converting this man".

Finally, the Pope said, 'after this purification, after this continuous descent into annihilation, making way for the annihilation of Jesus, his life ends'. That king from being perplexed 'becomes capable of a decision, but not because his heart has been converted'; rather 'because the wine gives him courage'.

And so John ends his life 'under the authority of a mediocre, drunken and corrupt king, at the whim of a dancer and the vengeful hatred of an adulteress'. Thus 'ends the great, the greatest man born of woman', commented Francis, who confessed: 'When I read this passage, I am moved'. And he added a useful consideration for the spiritual life of every Christian: "I think of two things: first, I think of our martyrs, the martyrs of our day, those men, women, children who are persecuted, hated, driven from their homes, tortured, massacred". And this, he stressed, 'is not a thing of the past: this happens today. Our martyrs, who end their lives under the corrupt authority of people who hate Jesus Christ'. Therefore, "it is good for us to think about our martyrs. Today we think of Paul Miki, but that was in the 1600s. Let us think of those of today, of 2015".

The Pontiff went on to add that this passage also prompts him to reflect on himself: 'I too will end. All of us will end. No one's life is 'bought'. We too, willingly or unwillingly, go down the road of the existential annihilation of life'. And this, he said, prompts him "to pray that this annihilation resembles Jesus Christ, his annihilation, as much as possible".

This closes the circle of Francis' meditation: 'John, the great, who continually diminishes to nothingness; the martyrs, who diminish today, in our Church of today, to nothingness; and we, who are on this road and going towards the earth, where we will all end'. In this sense the Pope's final prayer: "May the Lord enlighten us, make us understand this road of John, the forerunner of the road of Jesus; and the road of Jesus, who teaches us how ours should be."

[Pope Francis, St. Martha, in L'Osservatore Romano 07.02.2015]

Wise souls, or mad ones

(Mt 25:1-13)

The theme is not that of moral vigilance, but punctual: sooner or later all the baptized in Christ fall asleep (v.5).

And the environment does not seem the best: the groom is late, the girls are sleepy, some without oil and others... sour.

But sometimes we are like madmen who go to build houses on the sand: at the first trickle is landslide, and everything collapses.

The enthusiasm was there, the harmony with the Lord and his desire to embrace and transmit fullness of being... maybe not.

It lacks a dimension of depth, or of living hope that animates motivations and lubricates energy, in the impulse to the mission.

It is the outcome of those who seem to have welcomed the Beatitudes at all points, but do not make them their own...

Not for the fact that they do not fulfill well the role - a task - but because they do not relate the listening to the practice (not distracted, exquisitely evangelical).

Powering the torch is promoting life!

And the Appeal, the opportune moment, comes suddenly; it does not set itself up through a general or formal choice that evolves without correlations, personal tracks, attention to events and wisdom to correspond.

Here the relationship of Faith is not oil that can be lent.

There are anxious or perfectionist souls who rush to intervene, but lack perception. There are fearful and paralyzed hearts: they must acquire flexibility.

Some stare at the "no" moments and do not know how to turn them into occasions of awakening, or they heal too late. Others depend on the season or live on adrenaline and lack awareness.

Someone has to slow down and recollect himself, rediscover himself and the instinctive vocational lightness, his own infinite part - but avoiding childish strategies.

Others who have already accepted the divine, would need to wake up from numbness, to set in motion the wise and innate light they possess in deep inclinations.

Some need to throw ballasts, become more subtle in hearing and in offering themselves, or less dirigist; others need to prepare for the Encounter in a more relational and visible dimension.

There are people who must complicate their stories and then simplify [without dispersing] eventually becoming sharper; others and perhaps more, learning to donate. And so on.

So... better some with light than all in the dark. The actions and risk for wisdom, love and completeness of being build the Person and his dialogue.

One often imagines having provided for own practice with God by enrolling in parish registers, without elaborating his commitment.

But the person who neither edifies nor communicates life has nothing to do with God himself (v.12).

In this way, even the crisis can have an evolutionary sense; in not feeling absolute, in the logic of options, in personalisation, in the unexpected and different encounter.

Threshold of every Exodus, to Freedom and the Feast.

The paradigm of this high and strong Call of the Gospel is the therapy that can regenerate the world subjugated by external homologations, so that it goes Elsewhere - and does not renounce the dimension of Mystery that arouses it.

To internalize and live the message:

Have you lost the meaning of the Wedding Invitation? Or do you simply prefer to cross the Banquet threshold unscathed?

Is there an Encounter that you feel can awaken your life, or has the habit of waiting turned into a habit of waiting nothing any longer?

[Friday 21st wk. in O.T.  August 28, 2026]