24th Sunday of Ordinary Time
Ah, even Jesus gave pop quizzes. In today’s gospel he poses two rather interesting questions to his disciples. First he asked, “Who do people say that I am?” After they offered a few short answers, he then asked, “But who do you say that I am?” Many people have told you who they think Jesus is, but who do you say Jesus is? Our personal answer to that question makes all the difference in the way we approach both Jesus and life.
Peter spoke up and said, “You are the Christ.” To a good number of us, his answer comes as no surprise because we attached an aura of divinity to that title. We call Jesus the Christ because he is the son of God. But for Peter, Christ was simply a title announcing that Jesus was God’s anointed one; it did not connote any notion of divinity. To the contrary, the disciples still viewed Jesus in earthly terms, seeing him as one who would liberate them from the oppression of the Romans. Peter anticipated a royal kingdom, much like John and James did when they asked if they could sit one on either side of Jesus when he comes into his glory.
Jesus didn’t disagree with Peter but he warned the disciples not to tell anyone about him. He knew that they still didn’t understand his role as the Christ, so he proceeded to tell them that contrary to their expectations, he had to suffer greatly. What he said scandalized Peter who then tried to rebuke him. Peter meant well, never expecting to be rebuked himself in very strong terms. “Get behind me, Satan! You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do.” Jesus had a mission to complete and he wasn’t about to let anyone, including Peter, talk him out of it.
Jesus could say the same about most of us since few of us think as God does, which is why we fail to fully appreciate what Jesus is asking us to do as his disciples.
Instead of telling Peter how to think as God does, Jesus hits him and the crowd broadside with the command, “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.” That doesn’t sound too enticing, does it? Taking up the cross is some thing few of us care to do, but if we are to experience our own resurrection, Jesus is telling us we must first share in his passion and death. He isn’t offering us an easy way out, but keep in mind, he isn’t asking us to do anything that he hasn’t done first.
In a nutshell, picking up our cross means having to make some difficult decisions at times, moral decisions that can be counter-cultural and unpopular amongst our peers. To deny ourselves means that never again will I choose what I want over what God wants of me. In effect, if we truly follow Jesus as his disciples, listening to him, we will be saved. There is a name for that kind of surrender; it’s called faith.
Whether we follow Christ or not by picking up our cross, life is difficult but life won’t be as difficult if we accept his advice and be one with him. That is the paradox of this gospel. In our suffering, we can and will find life and true freedom. If we were to think like God does, we could see that the cross is the path to happiness.
The greatest act of faith that we can make is to say to God, “I don’t know the reason for the cross you sent me, but I will pick it up and carry it anyway, simply because your son, Jesus, said that I should.” Almost anyone can carry a cross if he or she can see the reason for it. But it takes people of great love and faith to carry a cross when they can’t see the reason for it.
A rabbi offers this insight for doing just that. He had to make a long journey so he set out with his donkey, an oil lamp and his bible. The first night, he tried to stay at an inn, but there was no room. He didn’t get angry. Instead, he said, “God knows best, he always has his reasons.” And so he camped under the stars. He tried to light his lamp but the wind kept blowing out the flame. After many attempts, he finally said, “God knows best, he always has his reasons.”
Around midnight, he woke up with a start and discovered that a thief had stolen his donkey. Again he said, “God knows best, he always has his reasons.”
The next day the rabbi discovered that during the night a band of barbarians had attacked the village, killing everyone. Had he stayed at the inn, he would have been killed. He also learned that the barbarians came to the stream looking for travelers. He realized that had they seen him reading his bible by his lamp or heard his donkey bray, they would have killed him. That night when the rabbi knelt to say his prayers, he said, “Lord, you know best; you always have your reasons.”
That story teaches us an important lesson; we should look upon everything, even our moments of suffering, with eyes of faith. As the rabbi said, “God knows best; he always has his reasons.” Taking up the cross may not make sense or be appealing to us at times but God has his reasons.
Because they are an integral part of life, we cannot avoid suffering and sorrow, but we can turn them into something that will draw us closer to God instead of driving us farther away. Just as a coin has two sides, we will discover that the reverse side of every cross contains a blessing far greater than the cross itself. That is the good news Jesus wishes to share with us today. Have we the faith to believe him?
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