Unknown's avatar

About Friar Musings

Franciscan friar and Catholic priest at St. Francis of Assisi in Triangle, VA

Forming the Church

This coming Sunday the Church celebrates the Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul. Our reading is located in a section of Matthean narrative that portrays the formation of the church (13:53-17:27) in the midst of the continuing conflict with all levels of Jewish society that is leaning towards a growing rejection of Jesus as Messiah. This story forms the hinge of the section because after this Jesus will heighten his attention to the preparation of the disciples for their mission as a community once Jesus has died and resurrected from the dead.  It will be a community who perceives and professes his true identity.

Crossing Over: A new theme emerges

A theme that began with Jesus’ encounter with the Canaanite woman (15:21-28) continues with the geographical setting of the story: the region of Caesarea Philippi. Early in its history this location had been the setting of Canaanite worship to Ba’al and later a Greek temple to the god Pan (hence the name Paneas). Eventually it simply became a center of secular power under the Roman regency of Herod the Great and his son Phillip who renamed it after Tiberius Caesar and himself: Caesarea Philippi.  Is the mention of the location just a geographical touch of narrative – Luke, the “geographer” of the gospel writers, does not mention the name – so one wonders why Matthew includes it.  It is not clear, but perhaps Matthew wanted to emphasize that this significant scene took place in a setting with significant religious and secular meanings and associations.  By doing so, Matthew crosses over to confront the pantheon of gods and the power of Caesar, with the true King of Kings and Lord of Lords.

But at the same time, this scene does not really cross over into new “territory” as regards Jesus’ divine identity.  While this parallel scene in Mark is the first time Jesus’ divine identity is proclaimed by others and worship (homage) takes place, that is not true in Matthew.  Jesus’ true identity is not really new to the disciples who have heard Jesus refer to himself in christological terms, have understood it, and worshiped him as the Son of God (14:33).  The breakthrough is not christological. Matthew is crossing over to begin to explicate the ecclesiological (“being church”) dimensions of the profession and worship.  It is from here that there is a separation of the new community of believers in the Kingdom of Heaven from those who oppose and reject it.


Image Credit: Pietro Perugino, The Delivery of the Keys (c 1481–1482). Sistine Chapel, Vatican City | Public Domain

The Solemnity Gospel

13 When Jesus went into the region of Caesarea Philippi he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?”14 They replied, “Some say John the Baptist, others Elijah, still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.”15 He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?”16 Simon Peter said in reply, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”17 Jesus said to him in reply, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah. For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my heavenly Father.18 And so I say to you, you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it.19 I will give you the keys to the kingdom of heaven.  Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.”  (Matthew 16:13-19)

The three questions

This coming Sunday the Church celebrates the Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul. The Gospel passage is taken from Matthew and is the scene in which Jesus gives Simon a new name, Peter, and says that He will give him the keys to the kingdom of heaven. It is a passage that well fits the  Matthean narrative devoted to the tripartite question: (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.  In the flow of the gospel our pericope is preceded by Peter walking upon the waters (Mt 14:22-33) and the encounter with the Canaanite woman (15:21-28) – and both episodes move Jesus to comment upon the faith of the disciple. These stories serve as the immediate context for our gospel about Peter’s confession and what it will mean for him in his on-going role of discipleship.

Continue reading

Saints Together

This coming Sunday is the Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul. Most of the apostles and lots of saints have their own feast day, but how about the two most famous saints of the early church? There is February 22nd in which the Church celebrates the “Chair of Peter” the sign that Peter was the first among the apostles and the one designated to lead the early Church after Jesus’ Resurrection and Ascension. But there is no “Feast of St. Peter.”

St. Paul, although not one of the Twelve, was an Apostle commissioned by Jesus. There is the January 25th celebration of “The Conversion of St. Paul” which commemorates the Damascus Road episode described in Acts of the Apostles: 9:1-31, 22:1-22, and 26:9-24. It is the scene made famous by the “Conversion on the Way to Damascus” painting by Caravaggio. But there is no “Feast of St. Paul.”

The two leading saints of the early Church are celebrated together in the Feast of Saints Peter and Paul as they are the founders of the See of Rome, through their preaching, ministry and martyrdom there. This celebration is a liturgical feast in honor of the martyrdom in Rome of the apostles Saint Peter and Saint Paul and is observed on June 29th – without declaring that to be the day of their deaths. St. Augustine of Hippo (late 4th century) says in his Sermon 295: “One day is assigned for the celebration of the martyrdom of the two apostles. But those two were one. Although their martyrdom occurred on different days, they were one.” Thus it is clear that the celebration is of ancient origin.

Continue reading

Invited in a miracle

A reflection from Dr. Susan Fleming McGurgan


Today, we read about a miracle—a miracle of bread and fish and of hungry people, fed by the providence of God.

Scholars have long tried to explain this miracle away. Most people of that era travelled with a bit of food tucked away in their cloak or pouch; the force of Jesus’ personality inspired people to share what they had saved for themselves alone. 

This story is a metaphor for the ways God provides for his children; we are not supposed to take it literally. We don’t really KNOW what happened on that hillside, but it doesn’t really matter whether it “happened” or not, the miracle is in the telling of the story.  

It’s ironic. We trust our lives to a technology that few of us understand. We believe in microbes and nanobots we cannot even see. We sneak a good luck charm into our son’s pocket on game day, and fear mythical demons that go bump in the night….. but when it comes to Biblical miracles, we wrap our sophistication around us like a shield  and tell each other that it really “doesn’t matter” if it happened or not.

Yes, it does.

That day, on a hillside in a remote corner of the world, thousands of people were fed from five little loaves and two small fish. Despite the size of the crowd and the doubts of the disciples, and the scarcity of the fish, everyone ate and was satisfied.

That miracle of the loaves and fishes was not simply effective pastoral care, or a dramatic way to grab people’s attention.

It was nothing less than a foretaste of heaven. That impromptu meal pointed to the time when our Lord’s body would be broken and shared and his blood would be poured out for our salvation. This miracle has been repeated every time God’s people gather to celebrate the Eucharist and remember God’s mercy.

This miracle lies at the very heart of our faith. It matters what we believe.

Yet, still, we have this urge to explain it away—to make it “less than”—to tame it and explain it and cut it down to size so that we can force it to fit into our world rather than expanding ourselves to fit into God’s.  

Maybe it’s because we have been duped by snake oil salesmen far too often. Maybe it’s because our woundedness makes it hard to trust in anything, let alone a miracle involving bread and fish. 

Maybe it’s because we fail to leave space for silence and time for awe. Maybe it’s because we are afraid—afraid that if we open ourselves up to miracles, we will be forced to admit we are not in control, and never have been. 

But the truth is,  this miracle of the bread still happens every day.

It happens right here and around the corner and across the ocean and anywhere hungry people gather in His name.

The Bread that comes down from heaven continues to be broken and shared. The Blood of our salvation continues to be poured out for us all. Like the hungry people on the hillside that day in Galilee, we are invited to eat our fill full measure, packed down, overflowing.

Like the hungry people on the hillside that day in Galilee, we are, quite simply, invited into a miracle.

The Eucharist as a Call to Justice

As a final thought, the following was written by Fr. Ronald Rolheiser, OMI,  in 2009. You can find it online here in the archive of his columns. 


When the famous historian Christopher Dawson decided to become a Roman Catholic, his aristocratic mother was distressed, not because she had any aversion to Catholic dogma, but because now her son would, in her words, have to “worship with the help”. His aristocratic background would no longer set him apart from others or above anyone. At church he would be just an equal among equals because the Eucharist would strip him of his higher social status.

The Eucharist, among other things, calls us to justice, to disregard the distinction between rich and poor, noble and peasant, aristocrat and servant, both around the Eucharist table itself and afterwards outside of the church. The Eucharist fulfills what Mary prophesized when she was pregnant with Jesus, namely, that, in Jesus, the mighty would be brought down and that lowly would be raised up. It was this very thing that first drew Dorothy Day to Christianity. She noticed that, at the Eucharist, the rich and the poor knelt side by side, all equal at that moment. 

Sadly, we often don’t take this dimension of the Eucharist seriously. The challenge to reach out to the poor and to level the distinction between rich and poor is an integral and non-negotiable part of being a Christian, commanded as strongly as any of the commandments. And this challenge is contained in the Eucharist itself.

First, at the Eucharist there are to be no rich and no poor, only one equal family praying together in a common humanity. In baptism we are all made equal and for that reason there are no separate worship services for the rich and the poor. 

Secondly, because, among other things, the Eucharist commemorates Jesus’ brokenness, his poverty, his body being broken and his blood being poured out. Pierre Teilhard de Chardin expresses this aptly when he suggests that the wine offered at the Eucharist symbolizes precisely the brokenness of the poor: “In a sense the true substance to be consecrated each day is the world’s development during that day—the bread symbolizing appropriately what creation succeeds in producing, the wine (blood) what creation causes to be lost in exhaustion and suffering in the course of that effort. The Eucharist offers up the tears and blood of the poor and invites us to help alleviate the conditions that produce tears and blood.”

And we do that, as a famous church hymn says, by moving “from worship into service.” We don’t go to the Eucharist only to worship God by expressing our faith and devotion. The Eucharist is not a private devotional prayer, but is rather a communal act of worship which, among other things, calls us to go forth and live out in the world what we celebrate inside of a church, namely, the non-importance of social distinction, the special place that God gives to the tears and blood of the poor, and non-negotiable challenge from God to each of us to work at changing the conditions that cause tears and blood. The Eucharist calls us to love tenderly, but, just as strongly, it calls us to act in justice. 

To say that Eucharist calls us to justice and to social justice is not a statement that takes its origin in political correctness. It takes its origin in Jesus who, drawing upon the great prophets of old, assures us that the validity of all worship will ultimately be judged by how it affects “widows, orphans, and strangers.”


Image credit: Pexels modified with Canva, CC-0

Catholic Scholarly Views and Interpretations

In yesterday’s post several scholarly views were presented. Perhaps we can also hear from some leading Catholic scholars. Fr. Raymond E. Brown,  author of The Birth of the Messiah and An Introduction to the New Testament sees this passage not merely as a miracle but as a prefiguration of the Eucharist. Jesus feeds the multitude just as He later offers His body to the disciples at the Last Supper. “The language and structure of this account deliberately resemble the words used at the Last Supper. The verbs ‘took,’ ‘blessed,’ ‘broke,’ and ‘gave’ (v. 16) clearly echo the Eucharistic formula.” 

Luke Timothy Johnson, author of The Gospel of Luke (Sacra Pagina Series, Vol. 3) draws parallels between Jesus and Moses, suggesting that this scene demonstrates Jesus as the New Moses, guiding and providing for a new people of God in the wilderness. “The setting of a ‘deserted place’ evokes the wilderness experience of Israel, and Jesus feeding the people mirrors God’s provision of manna through Moses.”

Continue reading

Feeding the People

The feeding of the five thousand had a meaning for the early church in the responsibility of the leaders to feed the flock, particularly with preaching and the Eucharist. This is the one miracle, apart from the resurrection, recounted in all four Gospels.

Luke shares the story with the other gospel writers, but his account connects the feeding to the sending of the Twelve.  Luke does not include Mark’s mention of the compassion of Jesus for the people or the messianic allusion (Mark 6:34), but the abundance of good stands as a two-fold lesion to the Twelve: abundance is found not in the power to purchase with money, but in the power of the Lord; and, those who give receive back even more extravagantly. Both lessons reinforce what they have learned on their own journey.

Continue reading

Ministry and Lessons for Mission

10 When the apostles returned, they explained to him what they had done. He took them and withdrew in private to a town called Bethsaida. 11 The crowds, meanwhile, learned of this and followed him. He received them and spoke to them about the kingdom of God, and he healed those who needed to be cured.

As part of the instruction for his disciples, it seems likely that Jesus wants to affirm their experience of mission and healing, as well as extend and continue the instructions as a means to prepare them for the soon-coming work of the nascent church. And the passage makes clear it was meant to form a respite and break from the missionary endeavors and make space in their life for quiet communal time with Jesus. Having participated successfully as his fellow workers in ministry, do they understand fully who Jesus is? Has their faith matured? We will see.

Continue reading

The Gospel Passage in Context

Each year on the Solemnity of Corpus Christi the gospel is taken from one of the miraculous feeding of the multitudes. This year the reading is from the Gospel of Luke 9:10-17 when five loaves and two fish become the starting point for feeding more than 5,000 people.

This Lukan passage comes at a “breaking point” in the narrative of the gospel. In Luke 8, we come to a “kind of ending” of the Galilean mission. Up to and through Luke 8 the accounts have focused on Jesus – the telling of parables (sower and the seed, 8:4-15; lamp, 8:16-18) and performance of miracles (calming of the sea, 8:22-25; healing of the demoniac, 8:26-39; healing of Jairus’ daughter, 8:40-56). At the beginning of Luke 9, the Twelve are sent on mission, “He summoned the Twelve and gave them power and authority over all demons and to cure diseases, and he sent them to proclaim the kingdom of God and to heal (the sick)” (vv1-2). These were prophetic actions that Jesus had already given to the people and the leaders of the Jews. As the leaders began to reject Jesus, even while the outcasts began to accept him, there was a growing gap in religious leadership. And thus Jesus, already having taught his disciples the meaning of the Kingdom, now sends them to proclaim God’s reign in word and deed. We are only told of the summary of their missionary endeavors: “Then they set out and went from village to village proclaiming the good news and curing diseases everywhere.” (Luke 9:6)

Continue reading

The Solemnity of Corpus Christi

The Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ – more popularly known as Corpus Christi, Latin for the “Body of Christ.”  – celebrates the gift of the Eucharist. From one perspective, every Sunday is a feast of the Eucharist, because by participating in the Mass, and in receiving Communion, we are honoring and celebrating the Eucharist. Still, the celebration of Corpus Christi has its own history.

In the Catholic Church in the West, since the liturgical reforms of Vatican II, Corpus Christi is celebrated as a solemnity on the Sunday following the Most Holy Trinity Sunday (the Sunday following Pentecost). At its core the solemnity is a celebration of the Tradition and belief in the Eucharist as the Real Presence of the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ. For millennia, such a theme was part of the celebration of Holy Thursday, but then there are other important themes that are part of that celebration (models of Christian service, priestly ordination, and more). And, all this occurs in the shadow of Good Friday. The multiplicity of themes and the shadow of Good Friday and the Passion do not lend the Eucharistic celebration of Holy Thursday a joyful patina. 

Continue reading