The Gospel reading set for this coming Sunday is Matthew 16:21-28
To
recap: in the verses immediately prior to these (Matthew 16:13-20),
Simon Peter has declared that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the living God;
and Jesus, in response, has declared, “You are Petros, and on this petra
(rock) I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against
it.”
‘From
that time on, Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem
and undergo great suffering at the hands of the elders and chief priests and
scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised. And Peter took him
aside and began to rebuke him, saying, “God forbid it, Lord! This must never
happen to you.” But he turned and said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! You are
a stumbling-block to me; for you are setting your mind not on divine things but
on human things.”’
Wow.
That is quite a reversal. And that is the necessary point.
And
here, I want to note two observations on stumbling-blocks. First, hear the
prophet Isaiah:
‘But
the Lord of hosts, him you shall regard as holy; let him be your fear, and let
him be your dread. He will become a sanctuary, a stone one strikes against; for
both houses of Israel he will become a rock one stumbles over—a trap and a
snare for the inhabitants of Jerusalem. And many among them shall stumble; they
shall fall and be broken; they shall be snared and taken.’
(Isaiah
8:13-15)
Second,
hear Peter himself, writing towards the end of his life:
‘Come
to him, a living stone, though rejected by mortals yet chosen and precious in
God’s sight, and like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual
house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God
through Jesus Christ. For it stands in scripture: ‘See, I am laying in Zion a
stone, a cornerstone chosen and precious; and whoever believes in him will not
be put to shame.’ To you then who believe, he is precious; but for those who do
not believe, ‘The stone that the builders rejected has become the very head of
the corner’, and ‘A stone that makes them stumble, and a rock that makes them
fall.’ They stumble because they disobey the word, as they were destined to do.
But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people,
in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of
darkness into his marvellous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are
God’s people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.
(1
Peter 2:4-10)
God
is the rock of sanctuary and the rock of stumbling. Jesus declares that
Peter—and by extension, the Church—is a rock of sanctuary and a rock of
stumbling. Peter comes to see this as a participation in the life of Jesus, the
rock of sanctuary and rock of stumbling.
A
word of warning: Jesus is elsewhere outspoken (as are the writers of the New
Testament who follow him) against anyone who places a stumbling-block in the
way of the young and/or young-in-the-faith. But stumbling itself appears to
play a necessary role in growing in faith. That is a recurring theme in
Scripture. We do not set out beyond the familiar, without falling into it. This
is true even of Jesus: in Mark’s Gospel, he is driven into the wilderness by
the Holy Spirit; in Luke’s Gospel, he is driven out of Nazareth by his
neighbours; in John’s Gospel, he is thrust into public ministry before he is
ready (no one is ever ready) by his mother, Mary; and here in Matthew’s Gospel,
he must stumble over Peter in order to set out for Jerusalem, and all that he
knows awaits him there.
The
arc is this: undergo great suffering, be killed, be raised. This is the
invitation Jesus holds out to all who would follow him. This is the secret of
life: formation (being formed in the likeness of Christ, by sharing in his
sufferings) leading to transformation (sharing in his resurrection, in a life
that is at once in genuine continuity with its earlier stages and yet as
different as a butterfly from its caterpillar). In the Greek, this is morphoo
and metamorphoo.
And
the ego will throw every resource at our disposal into resisting this call.
Which is why it needs to be broken before we can receive mercy.
I
am a runner. The very first time Jo and I went along to the running club, I
tripped over an uneven paving slab, was thrown through the air to land
sprawling on the pavement, later discovering that I had cracked a couple of
ribs which would take six to eight weeks to heal. We had only set off minutes
before; were still on the warm-up run, not even the session itself. To add to
my humiliation, the whole pack we were running with stopped, and gathered
around. There was no escaping attention. Then one of them insisted on walking
me back to the clubhouse, getting me a drink, and waiting with me until the
others returned, sacrificing her run so that Jo did not have to abandon hers.
That
was the night I knew that I wanted to belong to the club. I have had one other
fall since, so jarring that my body still carries the trauma, still physically
shudders when I recall it to mind. And all I can say is that you are a
different runner after you have stumbled and fallen. Not, in fact, a more
cautious runner; but freer; more fully present in the act of running; more
appreciative of, and closer-knit with, those you go running with.
It
is not possible to grow beyond the point you have already reached without
stumbling; and only those who have known what it is to stumble can truly offer
sanctuary to anyone else. That is the lesson Peter had to learn; and, with him,
the Church.
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