Last week we had in our first reading a prophetic account of the experience of truth, not only of its eternity, but also its demands. We saw the prophet declare that since truth will win out in the end, that means that in the end God is going to arrive.
Last week’s gospel was St Peter’s confession of faith, followed by Christ spelling out that his anointing meant the Cross. Like Isaiah in the first reading, Jesus explained that knowing the truth, knowing who Jesus is, does not exempt one from trial, but it does guarantee victory if we remain faithful.
So, one way perhaps of reflecting on this week’s readings is to think in terms of the test of faith. What does fidelity look like? How do I witness to truth? How do I show myself a disciple of Christ? How do I pick up my cross? As St Paul writes, how do we participate in the death of Christ that we might also share in his resurrection?
Our first reading is the classic response to last week’s claim to integrity from Isaiah. That response is: you say you are truthful. You say you are not a hypocrite. You say you’ll stick to your guns. Well, let’s see.
And our gospel has one of the false ways of responding to such a challenge. Namely, bluster, or debating who is more powerful, getting caught up in intramural squabbles, all of which are ways of avoiding Jesus’s question from last week, “Who do you say I am? Certain moments make it obvious if we are ducking it or not.
I had an experience like this. One of my best friends at university was, perhaps still is, an atheist. She made me question my faith. We had all sorts of discussion, arguments, fights about it. She would not let me hide my faith; she wanted to know what it was and whether I really believed. She was not mean like in our first reading, but she definitely put me to the test. And my first efforts were embarrassingly bad. I turned the question of faith into who is right and who is wrong. Basically, who is more powerful, like the disciples in our gospel today. I was the worst witness for a God who is love.
What was also interesting, though, was I only ever really had these conversations with her. Many of the topics we covered, I discussed with other people; but with other people, I always left out the faith aspect. I got very good at having two different types of conversation: one with religion, one without.
I realised what I was doing when I went oversea to study. Soon, I was having the same type of conversations. But this time, I realised that I had a choice. Do I go down the religious route or hide it like usual? Perhaps not being at home, not being in Australia, I realised for the first time, there really was a choice.
The second thing I realised was it might not be my choice. It might be the other person’s choice. Since I could have each conversation, maybe the other person should decided which one to have. And so I offered the other person the choice. Each time the person would choose the religious version.
And I gradually began to realise that I was well versed in this. I had done a lot of practice, and could actually guide the other person past some of the traps, and even sharpen their attacks on my position. I knew my way around the landscape. Moreover, this guidance aspect was much more friendly than my first attempts back home. I actually liked the way I was in these conversations. I thought I was actually useful, actually helpful. And it was fun. And each conversation gave me the courage to try again the next time.
And I realised that many people want this type of conversation. So many, though, are terrified to ask. It can therefore be a great gift to put one’s hand up and say, I’m a Christian. I really do believe. And I am happy chat about it.
Perhaps then in our Mass today we might pray about this type of perspective. When we are faced with the choice as to whether put our hands up, when we are faced with the choice as to whether we admit our faith publicly, perhaps we might think again about Christ’s question, who do you say I am? Do I really believe he is good news and not just for me?
Also, if we are tempted not to put our hand up, perhaps we might think on this instinct. Are we doing what the disciples do: thinking in terms of power? Thinking in terms of prestige? Thinking how will I look if I fess up to my faith?
And finally, and this might be a bit weird, perhaps someone around us, even someone we might not expect in our group, perhaps they might be like the little child that Jesus puts before the group? Someone who does not know how to ask the question. Perhaps does not even know that there is a question? Perhaps someone who just needs to see a bit of confidence, a tentative smile or hand, just a little bit of light that might spark a sense of the kingdom of God.
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