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Discipleship and Its Consequences
This coming Sunday is the 22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time, Lectionary Cycle A. “Then Jesus said to his disciples” With these words the scene moves from the personal debate with Peter to a general pronouncement about discipleship, the first part of it echoing what Jesus has already said to his disciples in 10:38–39: “whoever does not take up his cross and follow after me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” The disciples’ first reaction was not the softened “self-denial” or “take up one’s burden.” They understood the cross as the sign of Roman torture and death: “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.” (16:24) These words are about literal death, following the condemned man on his way to execution.
Discipleship is a life that puts life and parts of life at risk, with potential martyrdom. It may be legitimate to extrapolate from this principle to a more general demand for disciples to put loyalty to Jesus before their own interests and comfort, but that can be only a secondary application of the passage. Here, Jesus’ words are not to be taken as merely metaphorical. The “cross” and the “losing life” which he speaks of are literal, and it seems clear from v. 28 that he did expect at least some of his disciples to be killed because of their loyalty to his cause (as indeed they were). Such a demand only makes sense in the context of a firm expectation of life beyond death.
24 Then Jesus said to his disciples, “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me. 25 For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. 26 What profit would there be for one to gain the whole world and forfeit his life? Or what can one give in exchange for his life? 27 For the Son of Man will come with his angels in his Father’s glory, and then he will repay everyone according to his conduct.
What was so uplifting and positive at the point of Peter’s declaration at Caesarea Philippi has moved to the very stark “take up his cross.” The prediction of Jesus’ death hovers ever nearby, but in the context of his ultimate vindication and glory, as judge and king in the presence of his Father and the angels. To speak of the Son of Man’s coming is an echo of the language of Dan 7:13–14 (similarly in 10:23) with the added themes of glory, angels, judgment and seeing. The words are then a prediction of the vindication and enthronement of the Son of Man after his suffering and death, and it will occur while some of those present are still alive.
Image credit: James Tissot, Rétire-toi Satan, c.1890, Brooklyn Museum, Public Domain
Peter’s Response, Jesus’ Rebuke
This coming Sunday is the 22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time, Lectionary Cycle A. Then Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him, “God forbid, Lord! No such thing shall ever happen to you.” Peter’s typically direct and immediate response is not likely his alone. Just as he spoke for the other disciples in proclaiming Jesus to be the “Son of the living God,” the Messiah, now he gives voice to the horror they all share upon hearing Jesus’ description of the messianic mission. Given his confession (v.16), Peter may well feel particularly let down by the idea that his Messiah should prove to be anything less than a success.
The strong verb “rebuke” (used elsewhere for Jesus’ stern commands to the wind and waves, 8:26, and to a demon, 17:18) not only conveys the intensity of Peter’s shock and his boldness in expressing it, but also prepares us for the even more severe language with which Jesus will respond in v. 23. Peter’s words indicate that he regards the prospect Jesus has outlined not as a goal to he fulfilled but as a disaster to be averted; other people might suffer at the hands of the authorities, but certainly not the Messiah, The strong negative conveys that it is not just undesirable but unthinkable.
Jesus’ Rebuke. Jesus “turned and said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! You are an obstacle to me. You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do.” Jesus’ words to Peter are severe. One wonders if even the description of the “place” adds to the severity. Whereas Peter had quietly taken Jesus “aside,” Jesus now “turned” to issue a public reprimand. The opening words directly recall the dismissal of Satan in 4:10, here strengthened by the addition of the words “behind me,” to emphasize Jesus’ dissociation of himself from Peter’s ideology. But whereas in temptation in the desert (4:10) the tempter (which is what “Satan” means) was the chief demon himself, here it is Jesus’ loyal follower.
The point of the rebuke suggests that behind the human thinking of Peter, Jesus discerns an effort to dissuade him from his ordained course similar to that which Satan himself had made in 4:1–11. Similar to the third temptation in the desert, Peter’s understanding of the Messiah reveals the easier way to power and authority, the gains without the pains. As long as he holds such a view, the “rock” on which the church is to be built proves instead to be a stumbling-block. The image offers another rebuke for as long as Peter stands in front of Jesus he is in his way, stopping him from his mission – all because of Peter’s unthinking acceptance of “human thoughts.” Peter has expressed only what comes naturally to the human mind when presented with the idea of power and authority which the title “Messiah” suggests. But human thoughts are not God’s thoughts (Isa 55:8–9), and if human thoughts are not questioned they can stand in the way of God’s purpose and derail it. In much of the rest of this section of the gospel Jesus will be seen persistently trying to undermine the “human thoughts” of the disciples so as to get them to see things from the perspective of the kingdom of heaven.
Image credit: James Tissot, Rétire-toi Satan, c.1890, Brooklyn Museum, Public Domain
The Suffering Messiah
This coming Sunday is the 22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time, Lectionary Cycle A. “You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do” (v.23) neatly summarizes the nature of the problem. The way the disciples react to the idea of messianic suffering and “defeat” shows that this concept of Messiahship is going to be very hard to get across. Here, as elsewhere, the mention of resurrection on the third day gets lost. It is apparently so overshadowed by the suffering and death which precedes it that resurrection seems to pass unnoticed.
The source of the opposition which Jesus will meet in Jerusalem is more specifically spelled out by the mention of the three main groups who made up the Sanhedrin: the chief priests, the elders, and the scribes. Hereafter Matthew (unlike Mark) will usually mention only the chief priests and the elders. The only other time all three groups will be mentioned together is in their triumph over Jesus on the cross in 27:41.
The nature of the Messiah’s “suffering” is as yet undefined; 20:18-19 will spell it out more fully. The fact that it comes from those who made up the Sanhedrin indicates the official and judicial rejection of Jesus comes from those who had formal responsibility for the life of Israel as the people of God, and so presents us with the paradox of the rejection of Israel’s Messiah by the official leadership of Israel.
The outcome is not left in doubt: Jesus will be killed. We have had a hint of this outcome in 9:15 and 12:40, and we have heard of the plans of the Galilean Pharisees (a different group from those listed here) to do away with him in Mt 12:14. But now the impending death of the Messiah, which will be the focus of so much of the latter part of the gospel, comes also as a divine “necessity.” It is this unthinkable prospect which triggers Peter’s instinctive response in v. 22.
Image credit: James Tissot, Rétire-toi Satan, c.1890, Brooklyn Museum, Public Domain
St. Bartholomew
St. Bartholomew, an apostle and early martyr of the Church, is recognized for his missionary zeal especially in Armenia for whom he is their patron saint. And in some traditions, Bartholomew is also honored as a missionary to the Bombay India region on the Konkan coast, a region which may have been known as the ancient city Kalyan.
Bartholomew’s name sometimes creates confusion. The name is not a proper name per se, but means “son of Tolmai” similar to Barjona = “son of Jona”. Just the son of Jona had a proper name, so too the son of Tolmai – Nathaniel.
Bartholomew is listed among the Twelve Apostles of Jesus in the three synoptic gospels: Matthew (10:1–4), Mark (3:13–19) and Luke (6:12–16) and also appears as one of the witnesses of the Ascension (Acts 1:4, 12, 13. On each occasion he is named in the company of Philip. Bartholomew is not mentioned by the name “Bartholomew” in the Gospel of John, however “Nathaniel” appears with Philip in John 1:45-51 – our gospel reading for today. It is generally accepted that Nathaniel and Bartholomew are one in the same person.
The gospel reading offers a little regional trash-talk, “Can anything good come from Nazareth?” The passage also offers Jesus’ response to Bartholomew’s inquiry as to how Jesus knew him to be a man of honesty, Jesus enigmatically responded: “Before Philip called you, I saw you under the fig tree.”
There is no further explanation and no other reference to the incident. We are left to conjecture. The fig tree was almost a symbol of home (cf. Isa. 36:16; Mic. 4:4; Zech. 3:10). Its shade was used as a place for prayer and meditation and study. It seems probable that Nathanael had some outstanding experience of communion with God in the privacy of his own home, and that it is this to which Jesus refers. Whatever it was, Nathanael was able to recognize the allusion. The effect on Nathanael of these simple words is more than surprising. His immediate response is to salute Jesus in terms implying divinity: “Rabbi, you are the Son of God; you are the King of Israel.”
One lesson from this gospel is that Bartholomew is like the pearl merchant who has prepared his entire life to find the pearl of great price (Mt 13:45-46). Bartholomew was grounded in Scripture, had meditated upon its meaning, and when he came to his “pearl of great price” he was able to instantly connect to Jesus as Son of God, Messiah.
Would it be that each of us is so prepared to come to our moment in which we are asked to be all in.
Image: Public Domain, The Martyrdom of Saint Bartholomew by Jusepe de Ribera (1634). Tradition holds that Bartholomew was martyred by being skinned alive. The paintings and imagery of the saint often shows his flayed skin or the curved flensing knife with which he was skinned. Somewhat ironically, he is the patron saint of leather makers.
Under the fig tree
Today we have a reading from the Gospel of John in which Jesus encounters Nathaniel under a fig tree. It is only at the end of the reading that angels get a mention: “you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man.” (John 1:51) Otherwise, Jesus is involved in the calling of the disciples, having found Peter, Andrew and Philip at work. He finds Nathaniel sitting under a fig tree. Micah 4:3-4 and Zechariah 3:10 suggest that “under a fig tree” may be a place of contemplation. It may be that Nathanael was a “thinker”. He wouldn’t accept anything at face value, but he would question and contemplate everything until he was sure of its truthfulness. On the other hand, sitting in the shade, eating the free figs, might indicate that he was just a lazy bum.
I think that we need more fig trees — at least in a figurative sense. They can be quite messy when the unpicked, over-ripe fruit falls to the ground and attracts all kinds of birds and bugs. What I mean is that we need more places and time to be contemplative — time to be quiet and think. We need more “fig trees” in church — places and times to stop working, to stop doing the business, and to sit and reflect. Perhaps we might become more Christian with less busyness in our own lives and more time to ask the simple question to ourselves: how was I a disciple of Christ.
Perhaps we would be a better church if we could stop and contemplate our place in this world we are called to evangelize. We might find things quite messy: unpicked, over-ripe fruit on the ground. A harvest wasted.
In my last assignment, the Franciscans had just taken up pastoral leadership of a parish almost 150 years old. There was a lot of focus on the past, a church caught in the Newtonian mechanics of an object at rest. We can learn from the past, but we also have to consider the now, and then contemplate a new future of a church not at rest, but a restless church.
Same is true of each one of us as individuals, members of a family, and all the other roles we have in life.
Where is your fig tree? Find it and may the messengers of God, the angels, bring you divine food for thought.
Nathaniel under the fig tree | James Tissot, ca. 1890 | Brooklyn Museum | PD
Where we are, where we’re going
This coming Sunday is the 22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time, Lectionary Cycle A. Our reading begins: “From that time on” which serves as a type of marker that indicates one storyline is closing and the sacred author is moving to another. But there is also a larger storyline that is beginning to take shape. In the succeeding weeks of Ordinary Time we have heard of mighty deeds as well as what seems to be an initial “sorting out” of those who will or will not commit to discipleship. Perhaps a way to view the context of our readings is outlined here.
Signs of the Kingdom and Messiah
- Healing and Feeding the Crowds (14:13-21)
- Walking on Water (14:22-26)
- Defilement (15:1-20 but not part of the Sunday gospel sequence)
- The Canaanite Woman (15:21-28)
- Healing Many People (15:29-39 but not part of the Sunday gospel sequence)
- The Pharisees Seek a Sign (16:1-12)
Messiah Revealed and a Community Begins to Form
- Jesus, Messiah; Peter as Rock (16:13-20)
Who Will Follow and What it Means
- The Cost and Promise of Discipleship (16:21-28 – our Sunday gospel)
- The Transfiguration (17:1-13)
- Discipleship and Faith that Moves Mountains (17:13-20)
“From that time on” also marks the turning point of the mission in Galilee and from this point on, Jesus and the disciples are moving towards Judea and the city of Jerusalem. This geographical change coincides with the change in the pattern of Jesus’ activity and teaching. Peter’s declaration in Mt 16:16 that Jesus is the Messiah leads Jesus to immediately begin to describe the messianic mission with the very plain statement that he must suffer, die and be raised again (v.21 – repeated again in 17:22-23). The entire journey towards Jerusalem will be in the growing shadow of the cross. As we move ahead there are few encounters with crowds and few miracles. The attention is on preparing the disciples to understand, live and promote the radically different values of the Kingdom – as well to prepare them for the “sea change” that will begin in Jerusalem and ripple out to the ends of the earth.
If that places it all in a larger context, perhaps the more immediate context is well described by R.T. France. He labels the reading as a “Glimpse Into the Future: Messianic Suffering and Glory” where the “primary emphasis of this first part of the journey narrative is on the declaration that the Messiah must meet with rejection, suffering and death, and that those who follow him must expect to share his fate. But set within this depressing message is a persistent reminder that that is not the end of the story. The prediction of 16:21 includes also resurrection on the third day (cf. also 17:9); those who lose their lives do so in order to gain them (16:25–26); the same Son of Man who is to be killed will ‘come in his Father’s glory’ as judge (16:27), and be seen to be king (16:28). [The Gospel of Matthew, 629]
Image credit: James Tissot, Rétire-toi Satan, c.1890, Brooklyn Museum, Public Domain
A Question for a Lifetime
“Who do you say that I am?” It seems like one of those “fish-or-cut-bait” moments, doesn’t it? Peter and the disciples have been with Jesus for some time. They have heard the sermons, listened to Jesus open up the deeper meaning of the Commandments, witnessed the miracles large and small, seen all the people healed, restored, and heard the amazing words of forgiveness and love. Wouldn’t it seem as though they have had enough time to know Jesus in a deep, intimate, and personal way?
“Who do you say that I am?” I am not sure what the other disciples were thinking, pondering or what answer they were formulating, but Peter steps right up and responds: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” Short, sweet, succinct and …. What more could one say? It is the perfect answer. It is the answer that even now we are tempted to use, falling back on religious language we have inherited, language we know so well, words we could recite in our sleep. And sometimes I wonder if we give enough thought and attention to the question and the answer. Maybe we are just so used to the answer, or maybe we are a little timid wondering if our own answer would hold water, pass muster, or be bodacious enough.
Yet today’s gospel raises the question for each of us to consider: “Who do you say that Jesus is?” Don’t use Peter’s answer; take your time and consider your own response. Start forming our own response. I think “start” is the correct word to use. The German poet Rainer Maria Rilke noted that some questions are such that they have to be lived so that one day in the future, you might well live your way into the complete answer. I don’t mean that Peter’s answer is somehow provisional or that we eventually discover some different answer. Peter has it right. But perhaps some answers are so large that knowing the words is only the beginning. We have to spend a lifetime discovering what those words mean.
Maybe some are wondering, “well…preacher that sounds kinda’ fuzzy.” Afterall, it is a straightforward question which has an approved, creedal answer. It is a “heart-of-our-faith” question, requiring absolute certainty and conviction. Jesus is our Savior. Our Lord. Our Redeemer. Our King. There’s nothing ‘unsolved’ about Jesus; the Son of God isn’t a murder mystery. He’s the Way, the Truth, and the Life. The mystery isn’t uncertainty about who Christ is. The mystery is the inexhaustible depth of what it means to know him, love him, and follow him. The answer doesn’t change. What changes is the depth with which we understand the answer.
But you know…we are not unfamiliar with straightforward questions which have an expected answer requiring absolute certainty and conviction. Think about it! You have spent several years with your significant other, opening up to them, revealing more and more of yourself even as they do the same for you. You have shared moments of love, tenderness, and forgiveness too! Then comes the straightforward question: “Will you marry me?”
Hopefully the answer is “yes,” and boom!… there is nothing else to know. The question and answer were both wrapped in absolute certainty and conviction that this was the love of a lifetime. “I love you with all my life. I would die for you….” Of course, this is the love language we have inherited… words we know so well we can say them on the spur of the moment. And that’s ok because at the moment of the proposal, isn’t all known, all revealed, all uncovered? … ahhhhh…, not really.
Couples that have been married for a while can tell you there is more to be revealed each and every day after the proposal…after the wedding … after the first child…. After everything… In listening to stories from couples of long marriages, the language is different from the language used by fiancés. A new vocabulary arises that does not simply speak of the promise of love. It speaks of the trust and the experience of love that “bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things” (1 Cor 13:7)
Who do you say that I am? “The Love of my life” – it has one meaning at the moment of the marriage proposal. It is a different meaning 25, 30, 40, 50 and even 5 years into a life together. Married folks have lived the question and grown more deeply into the answer. They know what those words mean in a way they simply could not have known on the day of the proposal.
St. Peter had the same experience. This week he provides the succinct perfect answer. Next Sunday he will be on the hot seat when he suggests diverting Jesus from his destiny in Jerusalem. Jesus “turned and said to Peter, ‘Get behind me, Satan! You are an obstacle to me.’” St. Peter falls in line and follows Jesus, defends Jesus, denies Jesus, is restored and forgiven. Peter spends the rest of his life living into the answer he gave at Caesarea Philippi. “I love you with all my life. I would die for you….” and St Peter does, dying a martyr’s death.
For now, feel free to use St. Peter’s answer. It’s a very good answer. It’s the right answer. But don’t stop with saying it. Begin living it. “Who do you say that I am.” Live it fully, deeply. Live it until it resonates within you, until you feel the love of Christ. Trust in that love, knowing that in its power you can bear all things believe all things, hope all things, and endure all things.
Who do you say that I am? It is the question for a lifetime.
Amen.
Image Credit: Pietro Perugino, The Delivery of the Keys (c 1481–1482). Sistine Chapel, Vatican City | Public Domain
What kind of person…what kind of community
This coming Sunday is the 21st Sunday in Ordinary Time. As we noted at the beginning, a large part of the Matthean narrative is devoted to questions: (a) who is Jesus, (b) what does it mean to be his disciples in the light of his identity, and (c) what choices will you make because of his call. Those are questions that could be asked of the community as well as the individual. Fr. Ronald Rolheiser makes that point well in his reflection “The Width of Our Ecclesial Embrace”
Nikos Kazantsakis once said “the bosom of God is not a ghetto, but our hearts often are.” So too, sadly, are our ecclesiologies.
In church circles today, both liberal and conservative, our ecclesiologies are often anything but inclusive and Catholic (“Catholic” meaning wide and universal). We are pretty selective as to whom we consent to worship with and to whom we will accord the grace and wisdom of God. We tend to pick our fellow-worshippers along ideological lines rather than along the lines that Jesus suggests and we are getting ever more fastidious. More and more within our churches the sincere are divided from the sincere and the old tensions that used to exist between denominations now also exist within each denomination.
Given all of this, it can be helpful to reground ourselves in a critical truth that Jesus revealed.
One of his most stunning revelations is that God does not discriminate: “God lets his sun shine on the good as well as the bad.” God, like the sun, shines on every kind of soil equally, fertile and barren alike. And if God showers love equally on the good and bad, then surely God showers love equally on liberals and conservatives, on the rigid and the fanciful, on those who are joyous and those who are bitter, on the politically-correct and on those less inclined to that kind of sensitivity, and on those who belong to our ecclesial set and on those who would prefer us dead. That’s a disconcerting thought, but such, it would seem, is the scope of God’s embrace.
Jesus says as much: “In my father’s house there are many rooms,” This is a statement about the width of God’s embrace, not about the architecture of a heavenly mansion. God’s heart, as revealed by Jesus, is a wide one, capable of embracing immense differences and carrying unbearable tensions.
That, I submit, is one of the major challenges to our churches today, to stretch our hearts, our theologies, our ecclesiologies, and our pastoral practices so as to be more in tune with the great truth of our founder’s revelation that in God’s house there are many rooms. Can we hold the differences among ourselves in patience, charity, and respect? Can we hold and carry more tension rather than always looking for resolutions that result in some being included and others excluded?
Raymond Brown, in his wonderful book on The Community of the Beloved Disciple, traces out how the early church, immediately after Jesus’ departure, already struggled with many of the tensions we have today. The communities of Mark, Matthew, Luke, and Paul emphasized very different things than did the communities that followed John.
However, in the end, the church chose to canonize both of them, choose to accept different Christologies and different Ecclesiologies, and to carry the tension and truth of both. It chose to put these differences into paradox rather than opposition.
Brown’s words at the end of this fine book are ones that we, within every denomination and within every ideology within a denomination, might well take to heart:
He tells us the church’s decision to place the Gospel of John in the same canon as the writings of Mark, Matthew, Luke, and Paul was a decision to live with tension, to imitate God’s wide embrace. As Brown puts it, by choosing to keep both, the church “has not chosen a Jesus who is either God or man but both; has chosen not a Jesus who is either virginally conceived as God’s son or pre-existent as God’s son but both; not either a Spirit who is given to an authoritative teaching magisterium or the Paraclete-teacher who is given to each Christian but both; not a Peter or a Beloved Disciple but both. . . . This means that a church such as my own, the Roman Catholic, with its stress on authority and structure, has in the Johannine writings an in-built conscience against the abuses of authoritarianism. So also the ‘free’ churches have in the Pastorals an in-built warning against abuses of the Spirit and in 1 John a warning against the divisions to which a lack of structured authority leads. Like one branch of the Johannine community, we Roman Catholics have to come to appreciate that Peter’s pastoral role is truly intended by the risen Lord, but the presence in our Scriptures of a disciple whom Jesus loved more than he loved Peter is an eloquent commentary on the relative value of the church’s office. The authoritative office is necessary because a task is to be done and unity is to be preserved, but the scale of power in various offices is not necessarily the scale of Jesus’ esteem and love.”
In a time of much ecclesial quarreling, especially over authority, Raymond Brown reminds us that “the greatest dignity to be striven for is neither papal, episcopal, nor priestly; the greatest dignity is that of belonging to the community of the beloved disciples of Jesus Christ.”
Our ecclesiologies should echo that.
Image Credit: Pietro Perugino, The Delivery of the Keys (c 1481–1482). Sistine Chapel, Vatican City | Public Domain
A final reflection
This coming Sunday is the 22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time, Lectionary Cycle A. Eugene Boring [The Gospel of Matthew in The New Interpreter’s Bible, 351-53] had a particularly good reflection following his treatment of our Gospel narrative. Rather than summarize it, it is perhaps best to simply let the author speak for himself.
The function of this scene is to make an important theological claim about Jesus: His death occurred as part of God’s plan of salvation. “While the narrative function of the three passion announcements is to prepare the disciples, their theological purpose is to assure the readers, first that Jesus’ violent death is not a meaningless accident of history hut is part of God’s plan, and, second, that Jesus was not a hapless victim but a knowing [and willing) partner in the divine strategy.” [here quoting Douglas Hare, Matthew, 232]
The Christian life called for is not a reflection of, let alone the baptism and blessing of, the egocentric culture, but its polar opposite. Self-denial is not part of our culture’s image of the “good life.” But neither is the Matthean Jesus’ call for denying oneself to be understood as asceticism or as self-hate. Just as Jesus’ call to discipleship is not a joining in the cultural infatuation with self-esteem, neither is it the opposite. Nor is the self-denial to which Jesus calls the opposite of self-fulfillment. Just giving up things will not make one Christian; it will only make one empty. What is difficult for our culture to understand, indeed what it cannot understand on its own terms, is an orientation to one’s life that is not focused on self at all, either as self-esteem or self-abasement, as self-fulfillment or self-emptying.
This call to discipleship is based on faith in Christ and confidence in the future victory of God; it is not a matter merely of high human ideals or noble principles. That is, the life called for here is not based on a reasoned conclusion about how things ate, inferred from observation or general principles, but on faith that something has happened that makes everything different. To believe in Jesus as the Christ and to live accordingly means to reorient one’s life toward the good news that God has acted decisively and ultimately in Jesus, not that Jesus has some good advice on how to Live (by what criteria could such advice he judged to be good?). The call to discipleship here expressed is based on the past and future revelatory act of God. The call to discipleship of vv. 24-26 is inseparably related to the confession in v. 16 and to the expectation in vv. 27-28, all bound together with Jesus’ self-proclamation as Son of Man in vv. 13 and 28. The christological confession of v 16 is not abstract doctrine about the “person” of Jesus, but is realized only as it leads to the life called for in vv. 24-26.
This call to discipleship is a matter of confession, which means declaring one’s faith in Jesus as the Christ, as God’s definitive act of revelation and salvation. The word used to mean “confession” (martyrion; Matt 8:4; 10:18; 24:14) also means “martyrdom,” in the sense of witness. The giving of one’s life is presented as an act of testimony to a truth bigger than oneself. Its result may be literal martyrdom, as had happened in Matthew’s church and in every generation since, and continues today. But it may also mean the daily giving of oneself away in commitment to Christ (so Luke 9:23 explicitly). While many readers of this commentary will no longer live in a situation such as Matthew’s in which the result of authentic Christian confession can be literal martyrdom, the call to give one’s life as a testimony to the truth of the gospel is no less real. Orientation toward God, revealed in Christ as the Lord of one’s life, rather than idolatrous self-orientation, is the decisive, crucial difference.
This call to discipleship is a matter of community. This is not an individualistic ethic of the solitary “I,” but is the ethic of the community of disciples that confesses Jesus to be the Christ and lives toward the full coming of the kingdom of God for which it prays, accompanied by the presence of Christ during its time of mission.
The meaning of discipleship is learned along the way. The disciples in this story have been disciples for some time, called personally by Jesus (4:18-22; 9:9; 10:2-4), sent by him to preach and heal (10:5-8). They now learn the meaning and cost of discipleship, which cannot be explained in advance but must be learned en route. Many sensitive Christians may have wondered about the integrity of their own Christian life, since they “didn’t know what they were doing” when they “joined the church.” Neither did the Matthean disciples, who only learn in 16:21-28 what following Christ means, and who will yet falter and fail before the story is over. There is encouragement here for Christians who are concerned about past lapses (with more sure to come) and who are sure they do not understand as much as they should about the Christian life, just as there is warning for Christians who are sure that they do understand and have no need to change their present conceptions of the way things are.
Image credit: James Tissot, Rétire-toi Satan, c.1890, Brooklyn Museum, Public Domain
The Keys to the Kingdom of Heaven
This coming Sunday is the 21st Sunday in Ordinary Time. Eugene Boring [346] writes:
For Matthew, each of these two kingdoms makes its influence felt by teaching. The “kingdom of heaven” is represented by authoritative teaching, the promulgation of authoritative Halakha that lets heaven’s power rule in earthly things. The image of Peter with the keys is not that of the doorkeeper to heaven of popular piety and cartoons. As the next image makes clear, Peter’s function is not to decide in the afterlife who is admitted and who is denied entrance to heaven; Peter’s role as holder of the keys is fulfilled now, on earth, as chief teacher of the church. The similar imagery of Matt 23:13 and Luke 11:52 points to the teaching office, as does the introductory pericope Matt 16:1-12 and Matthew’s concern for correct teaching in general. The keeper of the keys has authority within the house as administrator and teacher (cf. Isa 22:20-25, which may have influenced Matthew here). The language of binding and loosing is rabbinic terminology for authoritative teaching, for having the authority to interpret the Torah and apply it to particular cases, declaring what is permitted and what is not permitted. Jesus, who has taught with authority (7:29) and has given his authority to his disciples (10:1, 8), here gives the primary disciple the authority to teach in his name—to make authoritative decisions pertaining to Christian life as he applies the teaching of Jesus to concrete situations in the life of the church. In 18:18, similar authority is given to the church as a whole, and the way the last three antitheses are presented in 5:33-48…shows such application of Jesus’ teaching is the task of the whole community of disciples, with Peter having a special responsibility as chief teacher as well as representative and model.
Image Credit: Pietro Perugino, The Delivery of the Keys (c 1481–1482). Sistine Chapel, Vatican City | Public Domain
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