“Blessed are you Simon … you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my Church” These words from last week’s gospel still echo in our churches, as we listen to today’s gospel. These words were the reply of Jesus to Peter, after he had declared Jesus as the Christ, or the Messiah. Today’s gospel is a continuation of the same story.

Following Peter’s declaration, Jesus told the disciples to tell nobody about it for the time being. Jesus knew that the people were not yet ready to accept him for who he really was. The general belief, and hope, was that the Messiah would be an earthly savior: a powerful, maybe political person who would free the people of Israel from foreign domination. The disciples, including Peter, were not exempt from this. So, while still being alone with his disciples, Jesus started to explain to them what type of Messiah he truly was. Rather than using many words, Jesus does this by telling them what he was about to do. This, he tells them, is going to be the programme of your Messiah. He will go to Jerusalem, he will suffer, be killed, and then rise from the dead. The way of this Messiah was an act of total, self-giving love.

Suffering and death was not what those men wanted to hear. Being his spontaneous self, Peter pipes up again and starts rebuking Jesus in no uncertain terms! The Rock, the one who was declared Blessed, the one who had just been given the keys of the kingdom, would have none of this. It was, then, Jesus’ turn to rebuke Peter with a simple, yet very powerful phrase. “Get behind me, Satan!” he tells him. The “rock” which was supposed to be the base of a Church, has now become “Satan” literally meaning a stumbling block, a stone that is in the way hindering someone from moving forward. “Get behind me”, Jesus tells Peter. Before being a rock, before being pope, Peter had to be a disciple. By definition a disciple is one who follows the master, not leading him. Here Peter had tried to tell Jesus what he should be doing, thus reversing the roles.

Let us not be scandalized of Peter. We all go through moments when we become a bit like Peter in our lives. How often do we, in our prayers, tell God to change things, events, or people in our lives! Like Peter we try to tell God that we know better! Peter’s story teaches us that, as disciples, we are supposed to follow Jesus—to let him lead the way, so that we can walk in his footsteps. Jesus’ steps took him to Jerusalem, and eventually up on the Golgotha. It was the greatest act of love, as he told us: there is no greater love, than to lay down ones life for the one you love. No wonder that Jesus then continues to teach the disciples about what being his follower means: it entails carrying the cross and losing one’s life. I know that very often our understanding of “cross” is not what Jesus intended. Speaking of one’s cross, Jesus never had in mind a sickness, a problem, or lack of money. The cross Jesus carried on his shoulders, and the one we are expected to carry, is whatever it takes to live out a life of total self-giving love. Because, ultimately, it is only this that can lead us to real life. It is important to notice that Jesus does not speak only of losing one’s life or of dying. These are not the end but, rather, a means for something better. It is losing one’s life so that we will truly find it, it is dying so that we can experience the joy of the resurrection.

St Paul knew that this is the only way that we can enjoy real life. Being such a down-to-earth person, he also knew that this was not easy. That is why he felt the need to beg his friends in Rome (in today’s second reading) to be “transformed”, to genuinely seek the will of God in their life. Peter needed to go through this kind of transformation. I’m sure most of us need it too. 

Let’s face it, we all sometimes wonder what other people think of us. Unfortunately, some people are too preoccupied with this. Whatever they do or say is almost always dictated by what other people might think. They are never truly free to be themselves. Without going to this pathological extreme, we find something very similar in today’s gospel. Jesus is with his disciples, his closest friends, and asks them what do people think of him. Who do they say he is? As always, different people have different impressions and ideas of the same person. So, the disciples start telling Jesus all the things that people were saying about him.

From the gospel story, it seems that Jesus is not really concerned about what people think. It looks like his question was just an introduction, an excuse that would lead to the really important question. Jesus does not react to any of the answers given, but goes straight to the point: “But,” he tells them, “who do you say that I am?” In his relationship with his close friends, this is what really matters for Jesus. “Who am I for you?” Come to think of it, we can say that this is a lover’s question. We can imagine two people who are really in love and asking each other: Who am I for you? What do you think of me? What difference do I make in your life? Anything else doesn’t really matter!

Our faith, our religion, is nothing more than our relationship with Christ. Everything that Jesus did was an expression of God’s love for us. That’s why he came to Earth; that’s why he healed, thought and eventually gave up his life. Given this great love, no wonder he makes the same question to each and every one of us: Who am I for you? What difference do I make in your life? We all have been taught many things about Jesus in our catechism classes, by our parents and grandparents, in school and at church. All of that is true, and must have helped us as we grew into getting to know him and entering in a personal relationship with him. What really matters to me now however, as an adult Christian, is who is Jesus for me? What difference does he make in my life?

Identifying who is Jesus for me will, then, help me understand better my identity as a Christian, as a follower of his. Once Peter acknowledged Jesus for who he really was (aided, as Jesus told him, by divine revelation) he immediately came to know what was Jesus’ dream for him. Peter becomes the rock on which Jesus was to build his Church. This does not make him perfect. On the contrary, we won’t have to wait long until we see Peter messing up (just wait for next Sunday!). And then we all know what happened during the passion of Jesus. But he’s on the right track, he learns from and grows through his mistakes, and his relationship with Jesus continues to grow stronger.

​Like Peter, we all have a mission in life. In different ways, depending on what God’s dream for us is, we all share in the mission of Jesus of building his Church. Basically, this is nothing more than helping others come to experience God’s love for them, helping them understand that there is a God who loves and who cares for them. 

Most of us are very familiar with today’s gospel-story. After feeding the thousands with the five loaves of bread and two fish, Jesus goes to pray while sending his disciples on the boat to the other side of the lake. When they were in the middle of the lake, a violent storm came up. All of a sudden they saw Jesus coming towards them, walking on the water.

Today I would like to focus my reflection on what happened next. Caught up in their terror in the middle of the storm, the disciples did not recognize Jesus. They thought he was a ghost. He tries to reassure them by telling them that it is him, they need not be afraid—but to no avail! Peter yells towards Jesus and asks him that, if it is truly him, to make him walk on water, like he was doing. Not a problem for Jesus. Peter, all focused on Jesus and without thinking, got out of the boat and started walking on the water. All of a sudden he must have started thinking that this should not be happening. He started thinking of the wind blowing in his face and the huge waves. And he started sinking. Immediately he asks for help. “Lord, save me”, he cries to Jesus. Naturally, Jesus does not let him down.

Storms in our lives are never lacking. It happens from time to time that we find ourselves in situations where we feel overwhelmed. We feel like there is no hope for us, the waves dragging us down. It could be an unexpected accident or illness, a huge family problem, loss of work, an unexplained depression or even a faith crisis. It seems that, in such circumstances, today’s gospel offers us two options. We either focus on ourselves and our problems, or turn our gaze and stretch our hands towards Jesus. The first option inevitably leads us to self-pity and continues to demoralize us, to drag us down. We lose perspective, and we won’t be able to see clearly. Notice how, wrapped in their fears, the disciples could not recognize Jesus. Something very similar happened on the day of the resurrection of Jesus. His close friend Mary of Magdala, focusing on her sorrow and self-pity, could not recognize the risen Lord. She thought he was the gardener!

Then we have the beautiful encounter between Jesus and Peter. During those few seconds that Peter was focusing on Jesus, he managed to walk on the waves. Then, as soon as his gaze and attention shifted, he started going down! The waves and the wind were there even when he was walking on the water. What changed was not what was happening around him, but his focus, his center of attention.

Jesus never promised us that, if we followed him we would never have any problems. They are part of everybody’s life. But he did promise that he would never abandon us, that he would never leave us alone. When the disciples found themselves in trouble, he came to their help. And when Peter was drowning, Jesus offered him his hand. That’s how Jesus relates to us. The problem is, do we recognize him? Do we let him in our boat, so that he can calm our waves like he did in the gospel story?

We need to create space and time for Jesus to enter into the boat of our lives. When the prophet Elijah found himself in huge trouble in today’s first reading, he went to the mountain of the Lord to find some comfort. Again, God did not let him down. He did come and visit him, but only in the stillness of sheer silence!

​In times of distress let us create these moments of silence, and like Peter cry out, “Lord, save me!”