When was the last time you had a crisis? That’s your question for today. I ask it because today’s Gospel Reading begins with a crisis. Perhaps, we can reflect for a few minutes on how Jesus responded to his crisis, so we might be able to respond more appropriately to our own crisis.
For many of us, “crisis” means a problem, something to be overcome. We talk about a crisis at work when we have to make a deadline for the completion of a project we should have started weeks ago. Or a crisis in the home, when Johnny doesn’t pass a course at school or when Suzie starts to date a boy we’re not sure she should date. For some, a crisis is the loss of a job or the death of a loved one. For others, a “crisis” occurs when you break a shoelace and your car-pool is waiting for you. I admit these may be examples of crises in our lives, of major or minor burdens we have. But that’s not really the kind of crisis I mean when we begin to reflect on today’s Gospel message, on the crisis Jesus faces.
The real meaning of “crisis” is: a time of change, a time of a major turning point. For instance, when a physician talks about a “crisis” being reached in a disease, the doctor really means a point is being reached where the patient will make either a rapid decline and die or will take a sudden turn for the better and recover. A crisis is the time of a turning point in one’s life. In today’s Gospel, Jesus has reached such a turning point.
Until now, Jesus has been preaching in Galilee about the Kingdom of God, the Reign of God, which has now begun. Yet his words have not been understood, not even by his closest friends, his disciples. Do you recall last week’s Gospel? The passage last week is the one which immediately precedes today’s reading. Last week, we heard Jesus’ question to his disciples: “Who do you say I am?” And we heard Simon’s response: “You are the Messiah (the anointed one), the Son of the Living God.” And Jesus’ response to Simon: “you are Peter, the rock.” But now, only a few verses later, only a few minutes later, Jesus has another name for Simon-Peter. He calls him “Satan.” Surely, this is some indication of a major change, a turning-point, a crisis.
Although Jesus has been preaching about the God who is love, his friends have not understood him. He now accepts the fact he must show them what he really means. He tells them he must leave Galilee and go to Jerusalem where he will suffer, be put to death, and be raised up. He must show them that love, true love, must also accept the burdens which are part of true love.
Peter’s reaction is typically human and typically Peter! He takes Jesus aside and says: “God forbid that any such thing ever happen to you!” Wouldn’t we have said the same thing? When a friend comes to us and tells us of a hard choice, a difficult decision he must follow, wouldn’t we, too, say: “God forbid that it has to happen!” Or when I, myself, have a hard decision to follow, I too want to cry out: “God forbid that I really have to do it!”
It’s then, when Peter cautions Jesus not to go to Jerusalem, that Jesus called him: “Satan.” But what does he mean? He does not mean Peter is an evil devil, some kind of monster. Do you remember when we first meet Satan in both the Old and New Testaments? In the opening chapters of Genesis, Satan is the tempter, the one who counsels Eve about the easy way to be like God. And in the New Testament, Satan is the one who, in the desert, tempts Jesus to accomplish his mission the easy way, by bowing down to Satan who will then give him all the kingdoms of the world.
Now, here is Peter saying: “Surely Jesus, you don’t really need to go to Jerusalem to suffer and die.” But what does Jesus say, besides calling Peter the great tempter? He says: “You are not following God’s standards but rather human standards.” And then he goes on to say something I find very difficult to accept: the need to deny my very self in order to save my self.
When I began this reflection, I used the word “crisis,” a Greek word which means “turning-point.” To reflect about this crisis, and our temptation in a time of crisis to take the easy way out, I need to reflect on another Greek word, psyche. This word, psyche, is used several times in today’s Gospel reading and it’s essential we have an appreciation of what it means.
The Greek root-word is found in modern English terms such as “psychology” or “psychiatry” and so we usually think psyche means “mind.” But it doesn’t. Not really. In modern translations of the Gospel, the one word “psyche,” can be rendered by three different English words: life, soul, or self. The “psyche” is that element within a human being that makes a person a uniquely human person: one’s life, one’s soul, one’s self.
Let me read a passage from today’s Gospel using the word “psyche” and as you listen, think of the whole concept: of life, of soul, of self, of all that makes you a human being and makes you who you are as a unique person. “If you would try to save your psyche, you will lose it. But if you lose your psyche for my sake, you will find it. What profit would you show, if you were to gain the whole world and destroy your psyche in the process? What can you offer in exchange for your psyche?”
That last question is the most important one of all: what can you offer in exchange for your psyche? One answer is given in the Gospel of John: “There is no greater love than this: to lay down one’s psyche for one’s friends.” What we have then, in today’s Gospel Reading, is Jesus’ recognition it is not enough for him to preach about the reign of God and about the father’s love for us. Rather, he saw it was necessary for him to express his willingness to accept the suffering that love sometimes demands and lay down his very selfhood, his psyche, for his friends.
Sometimes, we seem to think this was no great decision. After all, Jesus trusted in God to raise him up. Besides, it’s no great marvel to trust in God. If we believe in a loving father, we are bound to trust him. However, the greater wonder is this: to recognize that God trusts us! He trusts us to do what is right, even when it may be difficult to do what is right.
In today’s gospel, we heard about a crisis, a turning point in the life of Jesus. But what about a crisis in my own life? In a time of crisis, at a turning point in my life, I need to recognize the world may urge me to take the easy way out. Yet, I have to recognize God trusts me to accept my burden, my responsibility, my cross and to do what I know is right. I have to give up my own ego-trip, my own self and to not be tempted to take the easy way out. Instead, if I really am to be a follower of Christ, if I am really to be a Christian, I must be willing to put aside my own selfhood to see what will benefit others and not merely what is of benefit to me, personally.
Jesus never said it would be easy. What he does say is that, since he did it and since he was as human as I am, than I can do it, too. He asks me not to follow the standards of the world, but rather those of God. He asks me to do what is difficult when I would rather do what is socially acceptable – and easier. He asks me to believe God trusts me to do what is right and not merely what is convenient. He assures me the reward, in the long run, is there – and here, as well – for the Reign of God is not some future event, it has already begun, this kingdom of the now and of the not yet.
What conclusion can I reach in this reflection? I could say: at the time of a crisis, of a turning-point in my life, when I am tempted to take the easy way out, God trusts I will accept my burden and, setting aside my own self-interests, my psyche, I will do what benefits others, just as the Son of God did for me.
I admit this is a complex sentence with a lot of words to understand and to follow. Our Lord used a much simpler one. And so, the best way to summarize this reflection is to use his very simple conclusion. All he said was: “Love your neighbor as your own self, your own soul, your own life, your own psyche.”
Twenty-second Sunday of Ordinary; September 2, 1984; September 1, 1996 (revised)
Jer 20:7-9; Rom 12:1-2; Mt 16:21-27