Who Do You Say That I Am...?

Because we are all here, we can profess to be Christians. We believe in Jesus Christ and that he is the Son of God, the Saviour of the world. Yet, I suspect for many of us, our faith is also imperfect. Yesterday morning, as I sat down to begin writing the final pages of a large essay, I opened my document on the computer and nothing happened, it was gone. And no, I had not made a back-up. So I complained. "How could this happen?" "Why did this happen to me?" "What am I going to do?" For the rest of the day, I felt sorry for myself and I moped. Within the context of all human affairs, the loss of some school work is a relatively small thing; it is less a disaster and more an inconvenience. Those affected by horrible acts of violence, such as the shootings in Montreal or bombs in Iraq, or crimes in our streets; those affected by personal illness or a loved one's illness and even death; those affected by the demands and anxieties of just living in our world may form a chorus in asking "How can this be?" When our hearts raise questions to God, we echo this week's readings.

The prophet Isaiah proclaimed faith in God's care and protection despite the probability of Judah's defeat by the Assyrians. He said: "The Lord God helps me; therefore . . . I know that I shall not be put to shame; he who vindicates me is near." The clarity of Isaiah is replaced by confusion and debate in the letter of James. James was attempting to address the conflict between faith and works. Some thought they could be followers of Christ without involving themselves in the sufferings of their fellow men and women. Others thought they did not need to bother with worshipping God in prayer and religious ritual, that one need only external works to be a Christian. To both groups, James answered that like Christ, we are to assist and love others because the Father first assists and loves us. Faith and works cannot be separated. The confusion in James is deepened with Jesus' question and Peter's mixed response. Jesus asked his disciples "Who do people say that I am?" They answered "John the Baptist; and others, Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets." Jesus then asked the question "But who do you say that I am?" And Peter immediately responded "You are the Messiah." Despite his apparent understanding, Peter subsequently questioned Jesus about Jesus' teaching on his future suffering. "Peter took Jesus aside and began to rebuke him." I want to join Isaiah in confessing "You are God, and in you I place all my trust!" but sometimes I join Peter and ask "God, what are you doing?" This week's readings all give expression to the human struggle with faith and, most vitally, God's fidelity to us.

We know of Peter's prominence within the group of disciples and in the early Church. To Peter were given the "keys of heaven" and apostolic leadership. Yet we also know of Peter's gradual growth as a follower of Christ. Today's gospel has Peter rebuking the Lord, in another passage we hear Peter saying of Jesus "I do not know the man." Like most of us, Peter expresses both moments of confidence and trust and moments of confusion and questioning. Nevertheless, I do not think that our questioning necessarily reflects a lack of faith.. Rather, it emerges from our struggle to respond to God's love, to God's mercy, to God's care and to God's sacrifice. When I was a student at university, before becoming a Jesuit, a nun asked me if I had ever thought of being a priest. Not wanting to be a priest, I told her, "Oh Sister, I'm not good enough to be a priest." She was not deceived by my superficial demonstration of piety, she immediately answered, "John, being good has nothing to do with it." Our Christian vocation and life are not works of our own. They primarily are the labour of God who asks us if we would like to join him in a life of intimate union. God does not expect us to join him perfectly. This same nun also said to me, "you know John, your problem is that you want God on your own terms." When my life is perfectly ordered, when my thesis is submitted, in other words, when I have power, I am then willing to be with God. Since our lives are a great mystery and will never be perfectly ordered and any semblance of power is illusory, such a disposition sadly results in postponing one's romance with God. Peter's rebuke of our Lord was really an articulation of our struggle to let God be God and to let ourselves be God's children in whom he delights.

In the face of our imperfect response, what does God do? Does God endlessly correct and judge us? Does God tell us to leave God's presence until we get our act together? Or does God say that he will come with us to the ends of the earth, that he will suffer with us, even if it means death, death on a cross. Instead of pushing God aside and waiting to have him on our own terms, it is better to continue to question. Our questioning is an act of praise equal to what Isaiah proclaimed. When we question, we are saying to God that You are indeed our God, you are indeed our hope. It is to you that we look. There is a lovely woman in the English class I teach. She is a refugee and has had a very difficult life. In our classes she is often hard on herself, impatient with her progress. I told her that she must be more patient with herself and reminded her how much she had already learned. In a way, this is what God is desperately trying to tell us. The Lord is saying to us that we are his beloved, his delight for whom he will willingly give his life. We do not need to be perfect in our response, the Lord wants only our response. If on one day it is praise and one another it is questioning, it does not matter. What matters is that we are with him, and we allow him to be with us. "But who do you say that I am?" "You are the Messiah." You are the one I look to for life. You are the one with whom I rejoice and cry. You are the one I praise and question. You are everything.

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