Mark 8:27-38, from Proper 19 (24)
Always a paradox, Peter got things dead, solid perfect, but only about half the time.
In this weeks’ passage, for example, we see him nailing the question about Jesus’ true identity. “You are the Messiah!” Peter declares, and we learn from the context available in Matthew that Jesus responds by designating Peter as the foundation of the Church and the keeper of the keys to the Kingdom of Heaven. Not a bad score for a Galilean fisherman, eh?
But just one verse after the exchange ends, we see Peter trying to talk Jesus out of Jesus’ plan to bring salvation to not only Peter but the entire rest of the world, including you and me. Peter meant well, to be sure. He probably didn’t understand the big picture and took Jesus’ talk about being killed by enemies and raised to life three days later as nothing more than evidence that the desert heat was messing with Jesus’ head.
But Jesus is thinking all too clearly, and he gut punches Peter with the famous rebuke in verse 33: “Get behind me, Satan! You do not have in mind the concerns of God, but merely human concerns.”
From rock of the Church to embodiment of Satan in right around 100 words? That must be some kind of record, even for Peter.
It’s reasonable to wonder why Jesus didn’t just bench Peter and put one of the other disciples in the starting lineup. Take John, for instance. John never screws up, at least not in any of the spectacular ways Peter did. John seems utterly devoted to Jesus, and at the foot of the cross, with Judas dead, Peter grieving his three denials of Jesus, and every other disciple off hiding in fear somewhere, there’s John, close enough to hear Jesus ask him to take care of Jesus’ mother, Mary. You half expect Jesus to add, “And you’re the new rock of the Church, John. Go get the Kingdom keys from Peter, and tell him he’s fired.”
I’m glad Jesus picked Peter, though. It means there’s hope for me. It’s not that Peter’s flaws give me permission to throw my hands in the air every time I mess up and say, “Well, there I go, just being Peter again!” If I think the scale of grace Jesus showed to Peter merely gives me a pass to do whatever I want to do, then I’ve missed the point entirely. That grace is a measure of his love’s depths, not of its limits. To make the point another way: Perhaps even Peter’s batting average looks unattainable to you. If you’re looking for tips on how to improve your stats, I’m afraid I can’t help you. I don’t think God keeps stats, so I don’t see the point of keeping mine, and I think you should give up keeping yours. The only logbook that matters is the Book of Life, and my name is written in it solely because I believe. If you’ve believed, your name is there, too, written no bigger or smaller, fancier or plainer than mine. Or than Peter’s.
Next week: Proper 20 (25)
