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When the Word Disagrees with Me
Today’s gospel is the familiar story of Jesus in his home town synagogue in Nazareth. He proclaims, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor….Today this Scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing.” (Luke 4:18, 21) At the beginning of today’s Gospel, everyone in the synagogue is impressed with Jesus. By the end, they’re trying to kill him. Why? There are likely reasons,e.g., misplaced familiarity with the “home town boy” – “Isn’t this the son of Joseph?” (v.22) What is the old adage about familiarity breeding contempt? Perhaps there is a corollary: familiarity leads us to think we know just enough and so we stop listening.
Jesus knows that the people want him to “Do here in your native place the things that we heard were done in Capernaum.” (v.23) It is the OT equivalent of the modern slang, “show us a little love.” One might guess they are feeling a little entitled. This is very similar to last week’s parable of the workers in the vineyard who had been at it all day, come the end of the day and they felt entitled to more. I wonder if they too stopped listening to the vineyard owner’s explanation?
But what about us? This is not likely the first time hearing this gospel or a homily about it. Are you still trying to peel back the layers of the story to discover how this story impacts you at this time in your life which is no doubt very different from the first time you encountered this episode.
The people in the synagogue heard scripture selectively. The people are provoked when Jesus quotes their own history back to them. They know Elijah, Elisha, the widow and Naaman. Their problem is not a lack of familiarity with Scripture. It’s a selective memory. Israel’s Scriptures contain both election and God’s concern for the nations. Nazareth likes the first and doesn’t want to hear the implications of the second.
We are equally capable of building a Christianity from our favorite verses. We can emphasize justice and forget mercy or emphasize mercy and forget justice. We can insist upon personal morality while ignoring our responsibility for one another. We can become passionate about changing society while avoiding our own need for conversion.
It is not just this story. Countless times we have heard the Beatitudes, the stories of the Good Samaritan and the Prodigal Son. We know the words of Eucharistic institution. We know when to stand, sit and kneel. The danger isn’t necessarily unbelief. It can be overfamiliarity especially when we stop expecting the Word to surprise us. Sometimes knowing the Bible story is precisely what prevents us from hearing the Bible story. Familiarity can create the illusion our understanding is complete.
Jesus senses that he has touched something the listeners don’t want touched: God’s saving mercy for the “others”. The widow was a foreigner. Naaman was a Syrian and not merely a Syrian, but a commander in the enemy army. It is at this point that their admiration turns toward fury. It is just like the first workers in the vineyard parable: God’s generosity becomes offensive when God is generous to someone we don’t think deserves it.
We all have portions of Scripture we love because they reinforce what we already believe. The more revealing question is which parts do I wish Jesus hadn’t said? We readily hear Scripture when it supports our instincts about morality, politics, economics, social questions or whatever issue happens to matter deeply to us. The real test comes when Scripture challenges a position we already hold. We are very good at hearing the Word of God when it tells somebody else to change. The harder question is whether I will allow the Word of God to disagree with me.
The people of Nazareth thought they knew God. They thought they knew Jesus. They even knew the Scripture stories Jesus was telling them. What they weren’t prepared for was allowing those stories to change them.
So perhaps when the Word of God unsettles us, irritates us, or challenges something we have long assumed, our first response shouldn’t be, “That can’t be what Jesus means.” Perhaps it should be: “Lord, what are you trying to change in me?”
Image credit: Created in Dalle-3 | Aug 28, 2026 | prompt: create an image of Jesus in the Nazareth synagogue as described in Luke 4 – keep in an icon style with vibrant colors. Have Jesus centered with listeners on either side, seated. Include an open scroll or book | CC-BY-NC
Instruction for the Community
This coming Sunday is the 23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time. The previous two Sundays have focused on the gospel narrative that is set at the site of Peter’s great confession of faith: Caesarea Philippi. This is also the place where Jesus’ first passion prediction occurs which leads to Peter’s exclamation: “God forbid, Lord! No such thing shall ever happen to you” (16:22) – in effect denying the revealed nature and role of the messiah. Jesus corrects Peter in v.24: “Get behind me, Satan! You are an obstacle to me. You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do.” Despite his confession of faith and the blessing in response to it, Peter initially rejects the possibility that Jesus’ messiahship could involve suffering. This leads to Jesus’ instruction to the disciples about the true nature of the cross and the willingness to carry it in accordance with the will of God.
At this point in Matthew’s narrative the scene changes: “After six days Jesus took Peter, James, and John his brother, and led them up a high mountain by themselves. And he was transfigured before them” (17:1-2). But even after the revelation of the glory of God in the experience of the Transfiguration, the disciples are still plagued by their “little faith” and their inability to perform great signs and wonders (17:16, 19) – almost a counterpoint to the glory just witnessed. Yet in using the symbol of a mustard seed, Jesus still witnesses that through faith, he is present to the disciples.
The relentless movement towards Jerusalem continues as the disciples gather in Galilee (17:22). This is a community gathered from the “faithless and perverse generation” (v.17). Jesus’ witness of the second passion prediction serves to announce the focal point and bases upon which this new community gathers. Nonetheless the gathered disciples are sorrowful because they as yet do not understand. The disciples have a way to go, but slowly they are becoming church.
This perhaps the subtle but often overlooked element of Matthew’s narrative. Throughout the arc of the storyline Jesus has been addressing the gathering community. “But who do you say that I am?” is addressed not the singular “you” of Simon Peter, but the plural “you” of all the disciples – Peter is simply the one who steps forward to give voice to the response of the community.
Chapter 18 is considered by most scholars as containing the 4th of the 5 discourses, often labeling this section as “Instructions to the Community.” The fourth major collection of Jesus’ teaching is concerned with relationships among Jesus’ followers, who are clearly seen as a distinct community (as 16:18 has led us to expect). Within such a community there is opportunity both to harm and to care for others, and the health and effectiveness of the group will depend on the attitudes to one another which are fostered. Matthew has brought much of the stories together in this compact form with a view to the needs of the developing church. It is not so much a ‘Manual of Discipline,’ with regulations parallel to those of the so-named document from Qumran, rather it is a guide to relationships within the community. It is only in vv.15–17 that specific procedures are set out, and those are not so much ‘disciplinary’ as pastoral.
Image credit: Sermon on the Mount (1877) by Carl Heinrich Bloch, Museum of National History at Frederiksborg Castle, Public Domain
Liturgical Choices and Narrative Continuity
This coming Sunday is the 23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time, Lectionary Cycle A. Choosing readings for liturgy while taking into account the ebb and flow of liturgical seasons is an incredible undertaking that requires study and the blessing of Wisdom. The choices made sometimes leave unusual gaps in the narrative intended by the sacred author. The move from the 22nd to the 23rd Sunday is such a move. Consider the following flow:
We move across 1½ chapter of the text which contains important narratives that pertain to the deepening revelation of the person of Jesus to his disciples – recalling and confirming Peter’s confession – and making clear the connection of Jesus as Son of God and as the Suffering Servant who would be the means of reconciling God and God’s people. All the while pointing ahead to the Resurrection.
Image credit: Sermon on the Mount (1877) by Carl Heinrich Bloch, Museum of National History at Frederiksborg Castle, Public Domain
Faithfulness
In today’s gospel when Jesus says: “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” (Mt 16:24-25) – what did you hear? Because of the way we use the expression in everyday language, I think a tendency to think of “our cross” is to focus on nagging health concerns, local traffic, or difficult coworkers or relatives, and similar events in our lives. It has become an all-purpose metaphor.
For Jesus’ first hearers, the cross was not a metaphor at all. It was a horrifying public reality. It represented Roman power at its most brutal: humiliation, shame, and a death reserved primarily for slaves, rebels, and those the empire wanted to make examples of. When Jesus first spoke these words, no one in the crowd would have thought of daily travails, church decore, or even salvation. They would have imagined a more horrific end. After the Resurrection, Christians saw the cross in an entirely new light: the place where God’s love conquered sin and death.
We are modern people, believing people who hear these words in an ongoing dialogue about discipleship. While suffering can certainly become part of discipleship, here, that is not what Jesus primarily means. Notice the context. Immediately before this saying, Peter has rebuked Jesus for speaking about his coming suffering and death. Jesus replies: “You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do.” (Mt 16:23) Only then does he say: “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.” The cross is not simply something that happens to us. It is something we choose because we are following Christ.
Think of it this way: to take up one’s cross is to choose to embrace whatever faithfulness to Christ requires, even when it is costly. Taking up one’s cross is an act of fidelity – that may well bring suffering, misunderstanding, or sacrifice. But the suffering itself is not the cross. The cross is your fidelity.
I think there are several forms of “taking up the cross” that are particularly relevant in the twenty-first century. In an age of polarization and misinformation, telling the truth can carry real consequences. In an age of social media refusing to spread gossip or even more, interjecting to stop the gossip can have repercussions.
In a world that often celebrates convenience the Gospel celebrates covenant. That means remaining faithful to one’s spouse, aging parents, difficult children, a religious vocation, and priestly promises. These can become a genuine carrying of the cross. Not because those people are burdens, but because love remains faithful when it would be easier to leave.
Think about forgiveness. That can be a cross, one you have to choose to take up. Or living simply in this age of consumption where the culture says acquire more. Faithfulness is choosing generosity over accumulation; contentment over consumption; and stewardship over possession.
What about loving the unnoticed, the one no one else visits, a spouse with dementia, quietly serving in parish ministries and other examples of hidden fidelity when we choose to embrace whatever is required of us in order to be faithful to Christ. Those moments without applause. No recognition. Just love lived out.
Being grateful and hopeful. Not normally associated with “taking up the cross,” but aren’t there times when it is challenging to continue believing that reconciliation is possible, that goodness matters, and that Christ has conquered death? Cynicism is easy. Gratitude and hopefulness take effort. They take practice.
I think “taking up the cross” is sustained by habits that train us to let Christ, rather than the ego, occupy the center of our lives. These include:
- Daily prayer that teaches us to say, “Not my will, but yours.”
- Regular examination of conscience, where we surrender the need always to be right.
- Frequent celebration of the Sacrament of Reconciliation, which is itself an act of humility.
- Eucharistic participation, where we receive the One who first carried the cross.
- Hidden acts of charity that seek no recognition.
- Fasting, not merely from food, but from resentment, constant distraction, or the need for approval.
These practices shape the heart so that, when the costly moment of discipleship comes, we are prepared to choose fidelity.
One thing that strikes me is that Jesus does not say: “Endure whatever crosses life gives you.” He says: “Take up your cross.” Something that is active, deliberate, and voluntary. In an age, every age perhaps, people are tempted to arrange life around self-preservation and advancement. And maybe a simple way to understand “take up your cross” is this: “Choose faithfulness over self-preservation.” And now this final verse makes more sense.
Image credit:RomanNerud | iStock photo ID:2239554065 | downloaded Aug 7, 2026 | std iStock license
The Passion of John the Baptist
Today the Church celebrates the Passion of St. John the Baptist. This is not simply a martyr’s death or the tragic execution of an important biblical figure. His death marks the completion of his prophetic vocation. From the question posed in Luke’s gospel at his birth: “What, then, will this child be?” – this scene completes a life of fidelity to the truth during which John prepared the way for Christ not only through his preaching and baptism, but ultimately by giving his life. It is a celebration with several layers.
John dies as a prophet. The immediate reason for John’s imprisonment and death is striking. He isn’t executed because he proclaimed Jesus as Messiah. He is imprisoned because he tells Herod Antipas: “It is not lawful for you to have your brother’s wife.” (Mk 6:18). John refuses to adjust God’s truth to accommodate the powerful. That places him squarely in the tradition of Israel’s prophets. Elijah confronted Ahab. Nathan confronted David. Jeremiah confronted kings and religious leaders. John does the same and pays the price often associated with prophetic fidelity. At this layer, the feast celebrates the cost of speaking truth when truth is inconvenient.
John prepares the way for Jesus even in death. There is also a remarkable parallel between John’s Passion and Christ’s Passion. Consider that both are innocent and are arrested by political authorities who are reluctant to execute them. Herod recognizes John as righteous; Pilate recognizes Jesus’ innocence. Both rulers nevertheless surrender to pressure rather than doing what they know is right. Both of their deaths reveal the point where God’s Kingdom and worldly powers collide.
John is the herald and forerunner of Christ in preaching, suffering and even in death. His whole life says what he had earlier said about Jesus: “He must increase; I must decrease.” (Jn 3:30) His martyrdom is the final and most radical form of that decreasing.
Why call it the “Passion”? Ordinarily we speak of the martyrdom of saints. The Church traditionally calls August 29 the Passion or Beheading of John the Baptist. “Passion” emphasizes his suffering and deliberately invites comparison with Christ’s Passion. John isn’t another redeemer; Christ alone accomplishes redemption. But John’s death has a distinctive relationship to Christ’s because the entire purpose of John’s life is to point beyond himself toward Jesus.
Still, I am often asked why celebrate such a gruesome event? We are celebrating a most radical example of fidelity. Think of the contrasts: Herod appears powerful. John appears powerless. Herod has the palace, soldiers, wealth, and authority. John is sitting in a prison cell. And yet there is a radical reversal. Herod is actually captive to his reputation, an oath he made is a moment of inebriated passion, the opinion of his guests, and to Herodias. He is captive to his unwillingness to admit that he has made a terrible promise.
John, meanwhile, is physically imprisoned but morally free.
“What, then, will this child be?” (Lk 1:66)
Today’s celebration answers that question. This child will become a man so completely given to God’s call that he will not abandon it even when fidelity costs him his life. He became a faithful witness.
And I think that is ultimately why the Church keeps this rather unsettling feast. John did what he had done throughout his entire life: he pointed toward Christ. At the Jordan he did it with his hand and his voice—“Behold, the Lamb of God.” At Herod’s court he did it by telling the truth. And finally, in prison, he did it by remaining faithful when speaking that truth had become terribly costly.
The Passion of John the Baptist celebrates a life in which the message and the messenger finally became inseparable.
Image credit: St. John the Baptist Rebuking King Herod | Giovanni Fattori, 1856 | Galleria dell’Accademia, Florence | PD-US
Becoming Wise
Today’s reflection is based on Matthew 25:1-13, the Parable of the Ten Virgins, and is part of our parish elementary school Friday Mass celebration.
I grew up in Florida, where hurricanes were simply part of life. Back then storm tracking wasn’t nearly as good as it is today, so experience really mattered. Back then lots of new people began moving to Florida who had never experienced a hurricane.
One of our new neighbors worked in the aerospace industry. We assumed he was a “rocket scientist”—so obviously he was really smart. But being smart is one thing. Knowing how to prepare for a hurricane is another.
My dad was wise in the way hurricane preparedness and made an effort to share his experience and wisdom of how to prepare the house and the family for the experience. It was a lesson in character. Not only for us to prepare for the coming storm, but also to help the “hurricane rookies” prepare and make decisions about boarding windows, filling sandbags, taking in lawn furniture and plants – and the things “rookies” might not think about. You needed to have several days of food that did not need refrigeration. No electricity, no refrigerator. That means you needed easy to eat food, peanut butter and jelly, trail mix, a camp stove, and canned goods…. And a manual can opener. No electricity, no electric can opener.
Trust me the list goes on and on: water, flashlights, batteries, and for our modern times: portable power banks for phones, cash because the ATMs and credit card machines might not work.
You get the point. Our neighbor was a “rocket scientist” but not wise in the way of hurricanes. My dad was wise in such things and was possessed of the character to share with our neighbors.
Today’s gospel is about wisdom.
Were the young women in the gospel smart? Maybe they were all the “rocket scientists” for their day. But it seems there were two kinds of young women described in the parable. The ones who brought extra oil and were prepared for the unexpected – in this case the late arrival of the bridegroom. Was the late arrival likely? Possible? Who knows, but it is a celebration and such things are prone to go “off schedule.” And so some were prepared and brought extra oil. The others did not.
Knowledge often comes from books; wisdom often comes from experience. The ones who brought extra oil thought ahead and acted responsibly. They did not know when the groom would arrive. They simply stayed ready. Wisdom means making good choices, not just knowing information. Wisdom prepares for tomorrow.
How might this apply to you?
- Pack your backpack the night before.
- Do your homework before it is due.
- Pray every day, not just when there’s a problem.
Wise people prepare before the moment arrives.
And there’s something interesting about the oil. When the moment comes, the young women can’t simply borrow readiness from somebody else. Some things have to become part of us before the moment arrives.
You can get help with math from a teacher. You can get help with homework from your parents. But you cannot borrow somebody else’s kindness. You cannot borrow somebody else’s honesty. You cannot borrow somebody else’s friendship with Jesus.
And remember something else about my dad. His wisdom wasn’t just knowing what our family needed. Wisdom made him notice the family next door. He shared what he knew so they could get ready too. Christian wisdom doesn’t just ask, ‘Am I ready?’ It also asks, ‘Who can I help?’
Knowledge often comes from books; wisdom grows as we learn to make good choices.
Jesus tells us today: Don’t wait until the last minute to become the person God is calling you to be. Don’t wait until you need God to begin praying. Don’t wait until someone is lonely to learn kindness. Don’t wait until you’re tempted to lie to decide that honesty matters.
Every day we make little choices that put a little more oil in the lamp.
So this school year, learn as much as you can. Be smart. That’s one reason you’re here. But ask Jesus for something even greater. Ask him to make you wise. And every day, fill your lamp.
Be smart, but become wise.
Created by Dalle-3 on 8-26-26 with elements: word “Wisdom”, wooden letters, light bulb, warm wooden background
One’s Life; one’s motivation
This coming Sunday is the 22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time, Lectionary Cycle A. In the earlier Matthean reference to “taking up one’s cross” (10:38-39) there was a simple contrast between “finding” and “losing” one’s psyche (life, soul). The first part of v.25 speaks not of “finding” life but “wishing” to save one’s life, again emphasizing the volitional aspect already expressed in v. 24, “Whoever wishes to come after me….” A clear choice is thus offered between self-preservation at all costs and the risky business of following Jesus. But the self that is preserved by such a “safe” option is not worth preserving, since the true self is lost. By contrast, the loss of psychē (in the sense of physical life) is the way to find psychē (soul), the essence of the true life which transcends death. Loss of life as such is no gain; it is life lost out of loyalty to Jesus which ensures that true life is gained.
The word-play continues in v.26. The prospect of gaining “the whole world” echoes closely the third temptation in 4:8–10, and the means there proposed, the worship of Satan, would indeed result in the loss of the psychē. In our context, that is echoed into the situation where someone has succeeded not only in remaining alive but also in attaining everything this world has to offer (the word translated “gain” is normally associated with economic acquisition; cf. 25:16–17, 20, 22), and who yet is ultimately the loser. The loss of that person’s true psychē is described as a “forfeit,” a term which often implies a judicial punishment or fine; the term is perhaps intended to make the reader think of the judgment of God which determines the person’s ultimate destiny.
In the second rhetorical question the metaphor of “exchange” perhaps continues that of “forfeit:” once the psychē has been forfeited there is nothing which can buy it back or persuade the judge to rescind the penalty. But that is probably to look for too much precision in proverbial language. The saying (perhaps modeled on Ps 49:7–9) simply underlines the supreme importance of the psychē; nothing else compares with its value.
One’s Motivation. The opening word “for” connects the judgment scene of v.27 with all the text regarding the disciple’s steadfastness and commitment to follow Jesus: it is worth remaining faithful even to the loss of earthly life because there is an ultimate judgment to come, and on the outcome of that judgment the enjoyment of true life will depend.
The imagery within this single verse echoes Daniel 7:9-10, the scene of judgment at the throne of the Ancient of Days. As well it points to Daniel 7:14 where the Son of Man receives “dominion, glory, and kingship” over all nations. It perhaps relies upon the eschatological coming of God and “all the holy ones” in Zechariah 14:5. But in this fusion the OT roles of judge and king are merged – roles once ascribed to God, and now more pointedly ascribed to Jesus.
As judge, he will “he will repay everyone according to his conduct.” The whole clause closely echoes Ps 62:12 (cf. Prov 24:12), which speaks of God’s universal judgment; again language appropriate to God himself is transferred to the glorified Son of Man. “Repay” is used for divine rewards in 6:4, 6, and 18, and here too the primary emphasis in context is probably on the reward for steadfastness even to the point of martyrdom, the reward which results in finding one’s psychē. But the term is no less applicable to punishment for refusing to follow Jesus, and a judgment of every person “according to his conduct” must be expected to envisage either reward or punishment, as will be spelled out more fully in 25:31–46. This saying is thus not only an encouragement to the faithful, but also a warning to those whose loyalty may be wavering. “Conduct” is a broad term, but in the present context the focus is not on lifestyle in general, but on whether or not they have maintained their commitment to Jesus in the face of persecution. A more focused perspective on the basis of final judgment will be provided in 25:31–46 (separation of the sheep and goats).
Image credit: James Tissot, Rétire-toi Satan, c.1890, Brooklyn Museum, Public Domain
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
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