Paulist Fr. Rich Andre preached this homily for the 21^st Sunday of Ordinary Time (Year A) on August 23, 2020 at St. Austin Catholic Parish in Austin, TX. The homily is based on the day’s readings: Isaiah 22:19-23; Psalm 138; Romans 11:33-36; and Matthew 16:13-20.

Don’t let the names in our first reading fool you: it’s actually a simple story. It’s about two historical figures from the court of King Hezekiah of Judah around 700 BC. Isaiah warns the first guy, named Shebna, that because he has puffed himself up to be more important than he really is, God will give his position to another member of the court, a guy named Eliakim.

Our gospel is also about how the authority given to people by God may be quite different from the authority given to them by secular society. Two men within a band of poor, itinerant Galileans turn out to be the Messiah and the first pope! 

Hopefully, throughout our lives as Christian disciples, our understanding of who we are – and who Jesus is for us – will evolve and deepen. May the Holy Spirit continue to shower us with grace, insight, and mercy!

It’s very hard for us to hear this passage in its original context.

For hundreds of years before the birth of Jesus, the Jewish people anticipated the coming of God’s anointed one. The word for “anointed” in Greek was Christ. The word in Hebrew was Messiah. Jews believed that the Christ would restore Israel to the power and majesty it had possessed during the reign of King David. In Jesus’ time, after nearly a hundred years’ occupation by the Romans, many Jews believed that the Christ would be a military leader who would overthrow the Romans. There had been people before Jesus who had claimed to be the Christ, and there would be more claimants to come after him. 

So, when Simon says that Jesus is the Christ, what is Simon thinking? He probably isn’t envisioning a military leader, since Jesus says that Simon’s insight is from the Father. But Simon’s understanding will go through many permutations: from rejecting the idea that Jesus would suffer, to seeing Jesus transfigured, to pledging unending loyalty to him at the Last Supper, to denying him less than 24 hours later, to being asked by the resurrected Jesus to feed his sheep.

When Simon declares that Jesus is the Christ, the Messiah, it leads Jesus to declare that Simon is Peter, the Rock of the Church. As Simon’s understanding of Jesus’ identity as the Christ changes over time, we can argue that Simon’s understanding of his own identity as “Peter” also changes. After receiving the grace of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, Simon – who’s become notorious for putting his foot in his mouth – becomes an eloquent speaker, unafraid to proclaim the gospel even when facing the risk of imprisonment. The fisherman from Galilee travels to far-off places. By the time he is executed in Rome, Simon has truly become Peter, the Rock on whom the Church is built.

Throughout our lives, Jesus repeatedly asks each of us, “Who do you say that I am?” Like Peter, our answer probably evolves over our spiritual journey, and that development is coupled with a growing understanding of who God calls us to be.

I’m going to share an essay that I first came across more than 20 years ago. I loved it then. I love it even more now, after leaving engineering, taking a three-month cross-country discernment road trip, joining the Paulists and traveling with them to Washington, Berkeley, Portland, Rome, Boston, Columbus, New York, and Guatemala, and experiencing all the challenges and joys of my first eight years of priesthood in Knoxville and Austin. And now, in this time of pandemic and protest, it’s probably time for me to ask myself once again: who do I say Jesus is?

The Bike Ride (author unknown) ¹

At first I saw God as my observer, my judge, keeping track of the things I did wrong, so as to know whether I merited Heaven or Hell when I die. He was out there sort of like the President. I recognized His picture when I saw it, but I didn’t really know Him.

But later on when I recognized my Higher Power, it seemed as though life was rather like a bike ride; but it was a tandem bike, and I noticed that God was in the back helping me pedal. I don’t know just when it was that He suggested we change places, but life has not been the same since . . . life with my Higher Power, that is. God makes life exciting.

When I had control, I knew the way. It was rather boring, but predictable. It was the shortest distance between two points. But when He took the lead, He knew delightful long cuts, up mountains, and through rocky places and at breakneck speeds. It was all I could do to hang on! Even though it looked like madness, He said, “Pedal!”

I worried and was anxious and asked, “Where are You taking me?” He laughed and didn’t answer, and I started to trust. I forgot my boring life and entered into the adventure; and when I’d say, “I’m scared, ” He’d lean back and touch my hand. He took me to people with gifts that I needed, gifts of healing, acceptance, and joy. They gave me their gifts to take on my journey; our journey, God’s and mine.

And we were off again. He said, “Give the gifts away. They’re extra baggage, too much weight.” So I did, to the people we met, and I found that in giving I received, and still our burden was light.

I did not trust Him at first, in control of my life. I thought he’d wreck it. But He knew bike secrets, knew how to make it bend to take sharp corners, jump to clear high places filled with rocks, fly to shorten scary passages.

And I’m learning to shut up and pedal in the strangest places, and I’m beginning to enjoy the view and the cool breeze on my face with my delightful constant companion, my Higher Power.

And when I’m sure I can’t do any more, He just smiles and says, “PEDAL!”

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