September Holy Hour Reflection

Mark 8:27-35

Jesus and his disciples set out
for the villages of Caesarea Philippi.
Along the way he asked his disciples,
“Who do people say that I am?”
They said in reply,
“John the Baptist, others Elijah,
still others one of the prophets.”
And he asked them,
“But who do you say that I am?”
Peter said to him in reply,
“You are the Christ.”
Then he warned them not to tell anyone about him.

He began to teach them
that the Son of Man must suffer greatly
and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes,
and be killed, and rise after three days.
He spoke this openly.
Then Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him.
At this he turned around and, looking at his disciples,
rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan.
You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do.”

He summoned the crowd with his disciples and said to them,
“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
and that of the gospel will save it.”

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Reflection by Kevin Birnbaum

When I showed this Sunday’s Gospel reading to my wife, Jeanette, and told her I’d been asked to offer a reflection on it, her first reaction was, “There’s so much in this! Why did they give you so much?” It is, indeed, a staggeringly rich passage — there’s no way I could ever hope to do justice to all the riches it contains — but as I reflected on it, I began to see a deeper significance in my wife’s remark.

“Why did they give you so much?” The overwhelming richness of this Gospel reading seems to me to be emblematic of God’s whole relationship with us. God, in his grace, continually showers us with an abundance of spiritual and material blessings. And maybe it’s just me, but sometimes it can feel like a little too much to deal with — we know that we’re not doing justice to all the gifts with which we’ve been blessed. Sometimes, we wish God were just a little less generous towards us, because, as our Lord once said, “From everyone to whom much is given, much will be required.” And that’s intimidating, because we have been given a lot.

“Who do you say that I am?” Jesus asks. Most Catholics are more familiar with Matthew’s account of this exchange, with Peter’s full response that Jesus is “the Messiah, the Son of the living God,” and Jesus’ declaration that Peter is the rock upon which he will build his church. We also know, from Matthew, that Peter’s profession of faith was not a product of his own cleverness or insight, but was revealed to him by God the Father. It was a gift.

And what a gift — a gift freighted with responsibility and consequences. Peter could not have known at that moment all that was entailed in the truth he had just uttered. But Jesus soon made it clear. Peter’s friend, his master, the man for whom he had left behind everything — was going to suffer and be killed. Peter can’t bear to hear it. He rebukes Jesus: “No, it can’t be! Not you, Lord! It doesn’t have to be that way!” And Jesus responds, “Get behind me, Satan!” For it is the same temptation he faced in the wilderness, when the devil promised him earthly comfort, power and glory, if only he would abandon his saving mission, the ultimate gift of himself for the redemption of the world.

“Who do you say that I am?” Jesus asks. It is an urgent question — one that Jesus continues to pose to the world. I’ve heard some people speculate that when we die and go before the throne of God to be judged, that is the question we will be asked, the question on which our eternal destiny hangs. But there’s no need to speculate — Jesus has already told us how we will be judged:

“I was hungry; did you feed me? I was thirsty; did you give me drink? I was a stranger; did you welcome me? I was naked; did you clothe me? I was ill; did you care for me? I was in prison; did you visit me?

“Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.”

“Who do you say that I am?” Jesus asks. Peter’s answer was quite literally a revelation. For most of us, it is not a difficult question. We know who Jesus is. We have been blessed with the gift of faith. We proclaim his identity every Sunday in the Nicene Creed. It’s practically rote. The question Jesus ultimately asks us is this: “Who does your life say that I am?”

We have been so abundantly blessed — not only with faith, but with plenty of food to eat, with a roof over our heads, with good friends, with grace through the sacraments, and with the opportunity to bask in the presence of our Lord and Savior in the Blessed Sacrament.

God gives us these blessings, these gifts, not just for ourselves, but so that we may make a gift of ourselves to others. Do we answer the call? Our lips proclaim that Jesus is Lord, but what do our lives say? Who do our lives say that he is? Will the people we meet on Saturday morning be able to tell that we spent Friday evening hanging out with Jesus?

Peter was blessed with the gift of faith nearly 2,000 years ago. He responded by giving his life in service to Christ and his church, and finally he followed our Lord to his own crucifixion. The witness of his life, and the lives of the other eleven apostles, changed the world forever.

We too have been blessed with the gift of faith. Are we willing to deny ourselves, take up our crosses, and follow Christ? What will our witness be?