Homily 54 — Matthew 16, verses 13 to 23

“Now when Jesus had come into the region of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, ‘Who do people say that I, the Son of Man, am?’” [a]

Why has he mentioned the founder of the city? Because there was another Caesarea besides, Caesarea of Strato. It is not in that one but in this one that he questions them, leading them far away from the Jews, so that, set free from all fear, they might speak boldly everything that was in their minds.

And why did he not ask them at once for their own opinion, but for the people’s? So that when they had told him the people’s opinion and were then asked, “But who do you say that I am?” the very manner of his questioning might lead them up to a higher idea of him, and they would not fall into the same low view as the crowd. That is why he does not ask them this at all at the beginning of his preaching. Only when he had done many miracles, and had spoken with them of many lofty teachings, and had given so many clear proofs of his divinity and of his oneness of mind with the Father, does he put this question to them.

And he did not say, “Who do the scribes and Pharisees say that I am?” — though these had often come to him and talked with him — but, “Who do people say that I am?” He was asking for the judgment of the people, because it was free of bias. For though it was far lower than it should have been, it was free of malice; but the other was teeming with much wickedness. And to show how earnestly he wants his plan of salvation to be confessed, he says, “the Son of Man,” and by this he points to his divinity, as he does in many other places too. For he says, “No one has gone up to heaven except the Son of Man, who is in heaven.” And again, “But when you see the Son of Man going up to where he was before.”

Then, since they said, “Some say John the Baptist, some Elijah, some Jeremiah or one of the prophets,” and so set out the mistaken opinion, he went on to add, “But who do you say that I am?” By this second question he calls them on to form some higher idea of him, and shows that their earlier judgment falls far short of his dignity. That is why he looks for another judgment from them and puts a second question: so that they would not fall in with the crowd. For the crowd, because they saw that his miracles were greater than human, did count him a man, but a man who had appeared after rising from the dead, as Herod also said. But he, to lead them away from this notion, says, “But who do you say that I am?” — that is, “you who are always with me, and see me working miracles, and have yourselves done many mighty works through me.”

What, then, does the mouth of the apostles say — Peter, always ardent, the leader of the apostles’ chorus? When all are asked, he answers. When he asked for the people’s opinion, all of them replied to the question; but when he asked for their own, Peter springs forward, gets ahead of the others, and says, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” [d]

And what does Christ say? “Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jonah, for flesh and blood has not revealed this to you.”

Yet surely, unless Peter had confessed him rightly, as born of the Father himself, this would have been no work of revelation. Had he counted our Lord as one of the many, his saying would not have deserved a blessing. For before this, too, some had said, “Truly he is the Son of God” — I mean those who were in the boat after the storm they had seen — and they were not called blessed, although of course they spoke the truth. For they did not confess a sonship like the one Peter confessed. They counted him truly a son, but as one of many — a son in a special way, beyond the many, yet not of the same substance.

Nathanael, too, said, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God, you are the King of Israel.” And far from being called blessed, he is even corrected by him, as having said something far short of the truth. At any rate, Christ replied, “Because I told you, ‘I saw you under the fig tree,’ do you believe? You will see greater things than these.”

Why, then, is this man called blessed? Because he acknowledged him as the true Son. That is why, you see, where Christ had said nothing of the kind in those earlier cases, here he also points out who had revealed it. Peter was a devoted lover of Christ, and so to many his words might have seemed words of friendship and flattery, of a mind eager to show him favor. So that they would not seem so, Christ brings forward the one who had made them ring out in Peter’s soul. He wants you to know that Peter spoke, but the Father prompted him, and to believe that the saying was no longer a human opinion but a teaching from God.

And why does he not declare it himself and say, “I am the Christ,” but instead establishes it by his question, bringing them to confess it? Because doing it this way was more fitting for him, and indeed necessary at that time, and it drew them on all the more to believe what was said. Do you see how the Father reveals the Son, and the Son the Father? For he says, “No one knows the Father except the Son, and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.” So it cannot be that anyone learns of the Son from anyone but the Father, or learns of the Father from anyone but the Son. So even by this their equal honor and their oneness of substance are made plain.

What, then, does Christ say? “You are Simon son of Jonah; you will be called Cephas.” It is as if he said: “Since you have proclaimed my Father, I too name the man who fathered you.” He is all but saying, “Just as you are the son of Jonah, so am I the Son of my Father.” Otherwise it would have been pointless to say, “You are the son of Jonah.” But since Peter had said “Son of God,” Christ wanted to show that he is Son of God in the same way as Peter is son of Jonah — of the same substance as the one who fathered him — and that is why he added this. “And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church” — that is, on the faith of his confession. By this he shows that many were now about to believe; he raises Peter’s spirit and makes him a shepherd. “And the gates of hell will not prevail against it.” “And if not against it, much less against me. So do not be troubled because you are soon to hear that I will be betrayed and crucified.” [e]

Then he mentions another honor as well: “And I also will give you the keys of the heavens.” But what does “And I also will give you” mean? “As the Father has given you to know me, so I also will give to you.”

And he did not say, “I will ask the Father” — although it was a great display of his authority, and the size of the gift was beyond words — but, “I will give you.” What do you give? Tell me. “The keys of the heavens, so that whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.” How then is it not his “to give the seat at his right hand and at his left,” when he says, “I will give you”?

Do you see how he himself leads Peter on to lofty thoughts about him, and reveals himself, and shows by these two promises that he is the Son of God? For the things that belong to God alone — to forgive sins; to make the church impossible to overthrow while such waves batter it; to make a fisherman firmer than any rock while the whole world is at war with him — these he promises to give himself. So the Father, speaking to Jeremiah, said he would make him “a bronze pillar and a wall”; but Jeremiah he made so for one nation only, and this man for every part of the world.

I would like to ask those who want to lessen the dignity of the Son: which gifts were greater, the ones the Father gave Peter, or the ones the Son gave him? The Father gave Peter the revelation of the Son; but the Son gave him to sow the revelation of the Father and of himself in every part of the world. And to a mortal man he entrusted authority over everything in heaven, giving him the keys. It is he who spread the church to every part of the world and declared it stronger than heaven: “For heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.” How then is he less, who has given such gifts and done such things?

I say these things not to divide the works of the Father and the Son — “for all things were made through him, and without him nothing was made that was made” — but to bridle the shameless tongue of those who dare to talk this way. But look at his authority throughout: “I tell you, you are Peter; I will build the church; I will give you the keys of heaven.”

And when he had said this, “he ordered them to tell no one that he was the Christ.” [i]

And why did he order this? So that once the stumbling blocks had been taken out of the way — once the cross was accomplished and the rest of his sufferings fulfilled, and nothing was left any longer to interrupt and unsettle the people’s faith in him — the right belief about him might be engraved, pure and unshakable, in the minds of the hearers. For in truth his power had not yet clearly shone out. So it was his will to be preached by them at the time when both the plain truth of the facts and the power of his deeds would plead in support of what the apostles said. For it was by no means the same thing to see him in Palestine, now working miracles and now insulted and persecuted — and especially when the cross itself was soon to follow the miracles then happening — and to see him everywhere in the world, worshiped and believed in, and no longer suffering any of the things he had suffered. That is why he tells them to “tell no one.” For what has once taken root and then been pulled up would hardly hold again among the many if it were planted a second time; but what has been fixed once and stayed unmoved, harmed from no side, easily shoots up and advances to greater growth.

And if those who had enjoyed the benefit of so many miracles, and had shared in so many mysteries beyond words, took offense at the mere hearing of it — or rather, not these only, but even the leader of them all, Peter — consider what the common people were likely to feel. They would first be told that he is the Son of God, and then see him crucified and spat on, and that without knowing the secret of those mysteries or sharing in the gift of the Holy Spirit. For if he said to his disciples, “I have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now,” much more would the rest of the people have utterly failed, had the chief of these mysteries been revealed to them before the proper time. So he forbids them to tell.

And if you want to learn how great a thing it was that they learned his teaching in full afterward, when the stumbling blocks had passed, learn it from this same leader of theirs. This very Peter, who after so many miracles proved so weak that he even denied him and was afraid of a lowly servant girl — once the cross had come to pass, and he had received the sure proofs of the resurrection, and there was nothing more to make him stumble and trouble him — held so unshakably to the teaching of the Spirit that he sprang on the Jewish people more fiercely than a lion, for all the dangers and the countless deaths that were threatened.

With good reason, then, he told them not to tell the many before the crucifixion, since he did not venture to entrust everything before the crucifixion even to those who were to teach. “For I have many things to say to you,” he says, “but you cannot bear them now.”

And even of the things he did say, they failed to understand many, because he did not make them plain before the crucifixion. At any rate, it was only when he had risen from the dead, and not before, that they understood some of his sayings.

“From that time on he began to show them that he must suffer.” “From that time” — what time? When he had fixed the teaching in them; when he had brought in the first of the Gentiles. [j]

But even so they did not understand what he said. “For the saying,” Scripture says, “was hidden from them,” and they were in a kind of perplexity, not knowing that he must rise again. That is why he dwells all the more on the hard things and draws out what he says, to open their minds, so that they may understand what it is he is speaking of.

“But they did not understand, and the saying was hidden from them, and they were afraid to ask him about it” — not whether he would die, but how, and in what way, and what this mystery could be. For they did not even know what this rising again was, and they thought it much better not to die. So, while the rest were troubled and perplexed, Peter again, in his ardor, alone ventures to speak of these things — and not even he openly, but after taking him aside, that is, after separating himself from the rest of the disciples. And he says, “Far be it from you, Lord! This will not happen to you.”

What in the world is this? The man who received a revelation, the man who was called blessed — has he fallen so quickly and been overthrown, so as to fear his suffering? But what wonder is it that one who had received no revelation on these points should feel this way? Indeed, so that you may know that he did not speak those other words on his own either, see how, in these matters that were not revealed to him, he is confused and overthrown, and though he is told ten thousand times, does not know what the saying can mean. That he is the Son of God he had learned; but what the mystery of the cross and of the resurrection might be was not yet plain to him. For “the saying,” Scripture says, “was hidden from them.”

Do you see that he had good reason to tell them not to declare it to the rest? For if it so confused them, who had to be made aware of it, what would everyone else not have felt?

He, however, to show that he was far from going to his suffering against his will, both rebuked Peter and called him Satan. [l]

Let them listen, all who are ashamed of the suffering of Christ’s cross. For if the chief apostle, before he had learned everything clearly, was called Satan for feeling this, what excuse can they have who, after such abundant proof, deny his plan of salvation? I mean this: when the one who had been called so blessed, who had made such a confession, has such words spoken to him, consider what those will suffer who, after all this, deny the mystery of the cross.

And he did not say, “Satan spoke through you,” but, “Get behind me, Satan.” For in fact it was the adversary’s wish that Christ should not suffer. That is why he rebuked him with such great severity, knowing that both Peter and the rest were especially afraid of this and would not easily accept it.

That is also why he lays bare the thoughts of Peter’s mind, saying, “Your mind is not on the things of God, but on the things of men.” But what does “Your mind is not on the things of God, but on the things of men” mean? Peter, examining the matter by human and earthly reasoning, counted it disgraceful for him and unfitting. So, touching him sharply, he says: “My suffering is not an unfitting thing. You are passing this sentence with a mind of the flesh. If you had listened to my words in a godly way, and freed yourself from your fleshly understanding, you would know that this, of all things, is most fitting for me. You suppose that to suffer is unworthy of me; but I tell you that for me not to suffer is the devil’s way of thinking.” So by saying the very opposite of what Peter said, he checks his alarm.

So it was with John. He thought it unworthy of Christ to be baptized by him, and Christ persuaded him to baptize him by saying, “This is fitting for us.” And so it was with this same Peter, when he tried to stop him from washing his feet, and was told, “You have no part with me unless I wash your feet.” Just so here too he restrained him by speaking of the opposite, and by the severity of the rebuke he checked his fear of suffering.

So let no one be ashamed of the honored symbols of our salvation, the chief of all good things, by which we live and by which we exist. Rather, let us carry Christ’s cross about with us like a crown. Yes, for by it everything that is done among us is accomplished. If someone is to be born again, the cross is there; or to be fed with that mystical food, or to be ordained, or to do anything else — everywhere our symbol of victory is present. That is why we inscribe it with great care on our houses and walls and windows, and on our foreheads, and on our minds. [n]

For it is the sign of the salvation worked for us, of our common freedom, and of our Lord’s goodness. “For he was led like a sheep to the slaughter.” So when you sign yourself, think of the purpose of the cross, and quench anger and all the other passions. When you sign yourself, fill your forehead with all courage, and make your soul free. And you certainly know what the things are that give freedom. That is why Paul, leading us there — I mean to the freedom that befits us — led us to it in this way, by reminding us of the cross and the blood of our Lord. “For you were bought,” he says, “with a price; do not become slaves of men.” Think, he says, of the price that has been paid for you, and you will be no man’s slave; and by “the price” he means the cross.

For one should engrave it not only with the fingers, but before that with the resolve of the heart and with great faith. And if you have marked it on your face in this way, none of the unclean spirits will be able to stand near you, when he sees the blade by which he received his wound, when he sees the sword that dealt him his deathblow. For if we shudder when we see the places where criminals are beheaded, think what the devil must endure when he sees the weapon by which Christ put an end to all his power and cut off the dragon’s head.

So do not be ashamed of so great a blessing, or Christ may be ashamed of you when he comes in his glory and the sign appears before him, shining brighter than the sunbeams themselves. For the cross comes then, speaking out by its very appearance, pleading the Lord’s case before the whole world, and showing that nothing that was his to do was left undone. This sign, both in our forefathers’ days and now, has opened doors that were shut; it has made poisonous drugs powerless; it has taken away the power of hemlock; it has healed the bites of venomous beasts. For if it opened the gates of hell, threw wide the archways of heaven, made a new entrance into paradise, and cut the sinews of the devil, what wonder is it that it prevailed over poisonous drugs and venomous beasts and every other such thing?

So engrave this on your mind, and embrace the salvation of our souls. For this cross saved and converted the world, drove out error, brought back truth, made earth into heaven, and fashioned men into angels. Because of it the demons are no longer terrible but contemptible, and death is not death but a sleep. Because of it everything that wars against us is thrown to the ground and trampled underfoot.

So if anyone says to you, “Do you worship the crucified one?” say, with your voice full of joy and your face glad, “I do worship him, and I will never stop worshiping him.” And if he laughs, weep for him, because he is out of his mind. Thank the Lord for giving us such benefits that no one could even learn of them without his revelation from above. Why, this is the very reason he laughs: “the unspiritual man does not receive the things of the Spirit.” Our children feel this way too when they see any of the great and marvelous things; if you bring a child in to the mysteries, he will laugh. Now the pagans are like these children — or rather, they are even less mature than these, and so they are more wretched too, since they have the feelings of babies not at an immature age but when fully grown. That is why they do not deserve to be excused either.

But let us cry out and say with a clear voice, shouting loud and high — and if all the pagans were present, all the more confidently — that the cross is our glory, the sum of all our blessings, our confidence, and our whole crown. I wish I could also say with Paul, “through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world”; but I cannot, held back as I am by various passions.

So I urge you — and surely myself before you — to be crucified to the world, to have nothing in common with the earth, and to set your love on your homeland above, and on the glory and the good things that come from it. For we are soldiers of a heavenly King, and we are clothed in spiritual armor. Why then do we take up the life of traders and street hucksters — or rather, of worms? For where the King is, there the soldier should be too. Yes, we have become soldiers not of one who is far off, but of one who is near. For an earthly king would not put up with everyone being in the royal courts and at his side; but the King of heaven wants all to be near his royal throne. But someone may say: “How is it possible for us, while we are here, to stand beside that throne?” Because Paul too, while he was on earth, was where the seraphim and the cherubim are, and nearer to Christ than these bodyguards are to the king. For they turn their faces in many directions; but nothing led him astray or distracted him, and he kept his whole mind fixed on the King. So if we are willing, this is possible for us too. [p]

If he were far from us in place, you might well doubt it; but since he is present everywhere, he is near to anyone who strives and is in earnest. That is why the prophet said, “I will fear no evil, for you are with me”; and God himself says again, “I am a God near at hand, and not a God far off.” Just as our sins separate us from him, so our righteous deeds draw us near to him. “For while you are still speaking,” Scripture says, “I will say, ‘Here I am.’” What father would ever be so obedient to his children? What mother is so ready, standing by all the time in case her children call her? There is none — no father, no mother. But God stands waiting all the time, in case any of his servants should call on him; and never, when we have called as we ought, has he refused to hear. That is why he says, “While you are still speaking” — I do not wait for you to finish, but listen at once.

So let us call on him in the way he wants to be called on. And what way is that? “Loose,” he says, “every bond of wickedness; untie the twisted knots of oppressive agreements; tear up every unjust contract. Break your bread for the hungry, and bring the poor who have been cast out into your house. If you see someone naked, cover him, and do not overlook those of your own kin. Then your light will break forth in the morning, and your healing will spring up quickly, and your righteousness will go before you, and the glory of the Lord will cover you. Then you will call on me, and I will hear you; while you are still speaking, I will say, ‘Look, here I am.’” [r]

But someone may ask: “And who is able to do all this?” No — who is unable, I ask you? Which of the things I have mentioned is difficult? Which is laborious? Which is not easy?

Why, they are so far from being merely possible that they are even easy — so much so that many have actually gone beyond the measure of these sayings. They have not only torn up unjust contracts but even stripped themselves of all their goods. They have welcomed the poor not only to their roof and table but even to the sweat of their bodies, laboring in order to support them. They have done good not to relatives only, but even to enemies.

But what is there in these sayings that is even hard? He did not say, “Cross the mountain, go over the sea, dig through so many acres of land, go without food, wrap yourself in sackcloth,” but, “Give to the poor; give of your bread; cancel the contracts unjustly made.”

What is easier than this? Tell me. But even if you think it hard, look, I beg you, at the rewards as well, and it will be easy for you. For just as our emperors at the horse races heap up crowns and prizes and robes before the competitors, so Christ too sets his rewards in the middle of the course, holding them out through the prophet’s words as if with many hands. And the emperors — even if they are emperors ten thousand times over — are still only men; the wealth they have runs down as it is spent, and their generosity can be exhausted; so they are eager to make a little look like a lot. That is why they hand each item separately to a separate attendant and have it carried out that way. But our King does the opposite. He heaps everything together, because he is very rich and does nothing for show, and so brings it out; and what he holds out is so immeasurably great that it will take many hands to hold it. And to make you aware of this, examine each part of it carefully.

“Then,” he says, “your light will break forth in the morning.” Doesn’t this gift seem to you like one single thing? But it is not one. No — it holds many things within it: prizes, and crowns, and other rewards. And if you are willing, let us take it apart and show all its wealth, as far as we are able to show it; only do not grow tired.

First, let us learn what “it will break forth” means. He did not say, “it will appear,” but, “it will break forth,” showing us its speed and its abundance, and how intensely he desires our salvation, and how the good things themselves are in labor to come out and are pressing forward, and how nothing will be able to hold back their force beyond words. By all this he points to their abundance and the boundlessness of his riches. And what does “in the morning” mean? It means: not after we have been through the trials of life, not after our troubles have come upon us; no, it gets well ahead of them. For just as with fruits we call “early” the ones that show themselves before their season, so here too, to show its speed, he has spoken this way — much as he said above, “While you are still speaking, I will say, ‘Look, here I am.’”

But what kind of light is he speaking of? What can this light be? Not this light of the senses, but another, far better, which shows us heaven, the angels, the archangels, the cherubim, the seraphim, the thrones, the dominions, the principalities, the powers, the whole host, the royal palaces, the dwellings. For if you are found worthy of this light, you will both see these things and be set free from hell, from the venomous worm, from the gnashing of teeth, from the chains that cannot be broken, from the anguish and distress, from the darkness that has no light, from being cut in pieces, from the river of fire, from the curse, and from the places of sorrow. And you will go away to where “sorrow and woe have fled away,” where great is the joy, and the peace, and the love, and the pleasure, and the gladness; where there is eternal life, and glory beyond words, and beauty beyond telling; where there are the eternal dwellings, and the untold glory of the King, and those good things “that no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor have they entered into the heart of man”; where there is the spiritual bridal chamber, and the rooms of the heavens, and the virgins carrying the bright lamps, and those who have the wedding garment; where our Lord’s possessions are many, and the King’s storehouses.

Do you see how great the rewards are, and how many he has set out in one expression, and how he has brought them all together?

So too, if we unfold each of the expressions that follow, we will find the wealth great and the ocean boundless. Shall we still delay, then, I beg you, and hang back from showing mercy to those in need? No, I plead with you. Even if we have to throw away everything, be thrown into the fire, face the sword, leap on daggers, suffer whatever you like — let us bear it all easily, so that we may gain the robe of the kingdom of heaven and that untold glory. May we all attain it, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and power forever and ever. Amen.