(After proclaiming the gospel reading, I sat down and waited one minute, the time to slowly recite three “Our Fathers,” before continuing with the homily. Back then, the cantor before Mass did not routinely announce the name of the presider, deacon and homilist.)
For the last minute or so you’ve been waiting for me to begin my homily. While you were waiting, how did you feel? What thoughts came to you? Were you annoyed? Were you puzzled about what was going on? Some of you may have been amused about waiting. Others could have been anxious, thinking what’s wrong, why the delay? You may have spent the time reflecting on the readings. Or perhaps you were thinking about what you were going to be doing later today and hoping mass would get started again so you could leave as quickly as possible.
There are all sorts of reactions to waiting. They vary depending upon where we are and whom or what we’re waiting for. There is the wait before we go into the doctor’s office or the dentist’s. There’s the wait before a movie starts. There’s the wait for a friend you haven’t seen for a long time but who is coming now for a visit. There’s the wait for teenage children at one o’clock in the morning.
The reason I delayed starting my homily was to give each of you an unexpected opportunity to experience waiting; and to begin today’s reflection with a personal appreciation for the many different feelings that come with waiting. It’s only with an understanding of waiting, of long waiting, that we can begin to understand the importance of the gospel reading we heard today.
Our gospel reading begins simply enough. Jesus has been praying and asks his friends: what are people saying about me? The question is a very human one. Who of us is not curious about what other people are saying about us? Like Tom Sawyer, we’d love to be able to hear what the preacher says about us at our funeral.
Was it human curiosity that prompted Jesus to ask his friends what the crowds were saying about him? It seems to me Jesus did not usually care very much about what the crowds had to say about him. He was usually more interested in what mattered to his disciples and friends and not about himself. So, I believe Jesus was much more interested in his second question: “Who do you say I am?” And in Peter’s response: “You are the Messiah.”
Peter’s response is the focus, not only for today’s reflection, but also for the entire message we call the Good News; as well as the focus for our life. In order to appreciate the power of Peter’s reply, we need to return for a moment to that sense of waiting. The whole history of the Jewish nation is summed up in their waiting for the Messiah.
Can you put yourself in Peter’s shoes? Can you imagine the emotions he had about waiting for the Messiah? Each and every Jew had been waiting for the Messiah, for the savior, for the one who would lead them back to God. Who would bring them salvation. Who would save them. Can you imagine what It would be like to wait for a leader for a thousand years; for a king or a president to lead us to complete peace and harmony? We have no sense of that kind of waiting; but the Jews did.
When we’re young and time seems so long, we say we are waiting for the perfect mate: the perfect wife, the perfect husband, someone who will make us complete, who will fill us with total love. The Jews knew the same feelings; and so the early Christians were able to describe Jesus as the bridegroom who would be coming. They awaited the perfect husband. In a time when the culture allowed it, they longed for the perfect Lord, the perfect master, the perfect protector, the savior, the messiah.
Can you now feel the power of Peter’s reply to Jesus: “You are the Messiah!” You are the one I’ve been longing for. You are my Beloved, my Protector, my Leader, my Master, my Lord. You are the one I’ve waited for, hungered for. I have been anxious about your coming. I’ve been annoyed at times with the delay. I’ve had the hope that you would come, knew you would come. Yet I feared that you might not. But now you are here, and I am safe,
And when Jesus turns to each of us and asks: “Who do you say I am?” would we not each be overjoyed to cry out: “You are the Messiah!” But the gospel doesn’t stop there. The Good News does not end with Peter’s statement: “You are the Messiah!” Instead, it begins there.
When Peter proclaimed to Jesus: “You are the Messiah!” he had certain expectations. But what did Jesus say when Peter called him the Messiah? Jesus’ response was totally unexpected. He said two very unexpected things to Peter:
First: he said that he must suffer, be rejected, be put to death and be raised up. This was not what Peter, nor any other Jew, would expect the Messiah to say. Peter had just proclaimed that Jesus was the long-awaited one who would personally save him and his people, who would protect him from all harm. And here was this Messiah saying that he, himself, was going to suffer, be rejected, be put to death and would be raised from the dead.
Secondly, and even more surprisingly, Jesus told Peter and all the others something else: “If you wish to be my follower, you must deny your very self, take up your cross each day and follow in my footsteps. If you try to save your own life, you will lose it. If you lose your life for my sake, you will save it.“
And so we arrive at a very strange series of facts. Although Jesus was a teacher, he seldom listed his facts directly. He usually allowed his listeners to draw their own conclusions. But if Jesus were to list his facts, they might be like this:
● One: you say I am the Messiah
● Two: I am about to suffer, be rejected, be put to death; but I will be raised up again,
● Three: if I, the Messiah, can do all this, then you too, if you are to be my follower, must do the same thing.
These strange facts bring each of us to an even stranger conclusion: What I do with my life and How I act each day, depend upon how I answer the question Jesus asks: “Who do you say I am?”
If I say: “You are a good man, a kind friend,” I will act in a certain way. If I say: “You are a prophet or a teacher,” then I’ll act in a different way. But what happens if I say, “You are the Messiah,” the one I’ve waited for all my life, the one who is to protect and save me. If I call you “Messiah,” what is demanded of me?
● Each day, every day. Must I love those who hate me?
● Each day, every day. Must I turn the other cheek, walk the extra mile, give my material possessions to others in need?
● Each day, every day. When it is so difficult that it feels like a cross on my shoulders, must I help everyone who cries out to me.
● Each day, every day. Even when I am tired and irritable and want so much to say no, must I feed the hungry and clothe the poor, when I’d rather spend the money on things to make my own difficult life more pleasant?
Do I need to re-translate what Saint Paul wrote two-thousand years ago and bring it up to date? Would Paul, the imitator of Jesus, say: “There does not exist among you American or Russian, exploiter or victim, employed or unemployed, wealthy or marginalized, abuser or abused, all are one in Jesus the Christ, the Anointed One, the Messiah.”
I began by having each of you wait for this reflection to begin. It’s now time to wait for the rest of this Eucharistic celebration. We are all waiting for something. Does Jesus also wait? Does he still wait for an answer to his question: “Who do you say I am?” Do I have the courage to say: “You are the Messiah!”
Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time; June 22, 1986
Zech 12:10-11; Gal 3:26-29; Lk 9:18-24