Sermon at The Church of the Holy Apostles, New York City,
August 25, 2002, The Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost,
Proper 16, Year A
by The Reverend Barry M. Signorelli

Lection: Isaiah 51:1-6;  Psalm 138, 
Romans 11:33-36;  Matthew 16:13-20, 

I remember a sermon I heard back in October of 1978, while I was a college student in St. Louis. I attended an Episcopal parish just next door to the campus, and on that particular Sunday, the Gospel reading was the same story we heard just a moment ago, although I don't remember if it came from Matthew, Mark, or Luke that year. Now, as I recall, the Episcopal Church in St. Louis was really pretty Protestant then, and this parish was no exception. So it was a little surprising when the rector began his sermon by saying, "it's an odd coincidence, isn't it, that of all the stories in the Gospel, we should hear this one, where Jesus names Peter as the rock upon which he shall build the church - a very strange occurrence that we should hear it this morning, of all mornings, right after the conclave of cardinals has elected John Paul II to be the Pope of the Roman Catholic Church."

It was a masterful example of the rhetorical technique my father referred to as "hitting them over the head with a two by four," and there may have been the slightest collective intake of breath throughout the congregation; the election had indeed just taken place, but some may not have made the connection, and the rest may have been concerned about where this sermon was going! Actually, I don't remember anything else the rector said that morning, but there were no mass defections from the church, so I guess it was fairly mainstream….

As Anglicans, we do not have a pope. Each sister Church in the Anglican Communion - those autonomous, national churches which trace their heritage back to the Church of England - is overseen by its own Primate, or Presiding Bishop as we call him in the U.S. And of course, we look to the Archbishop of Canterbury as the spiritual leader of the Communion. But neither Canterbury nor any individual Primate can tell the entire Communion what to do or believe - that's why the Episcopal Church could ordain women, or the Diocese of New Westminster in Canada could approve a liturgy for same-sex blessings, without the consent of the other Anglican Churches around the world. The Archbishop of Canterbury's power is as an influencer, a mediator, a facilitator of debate through which the Communion struggles to find the truth, much like the early Church councils did. And, though the Archbishop is afforded the honorific "first among equals," in Anglicanism the emphasis has most often been on the word "equals." Even our own Presiding Bishop sometimes has trouble persuading his colleagues in the House of Bishops to see things his way. This is as it should be - the gift of discernment from the Spirit is given equally to all, whether lay person, bishop, priest, or deacon.

Now it's sometimes said that, "Episcopalians don't believe in the pope," but that's not accurate: I believe in the pope, I've seen him on TV. What we as Anglicans don't accept is the level of authority over doctrine, dogma, and canon law that has developed around the office of the Bishop of Rome. For that's what we understand John Paul II and his predecessors to be, Bishops of Rome; and we can even acknowledge them as the spiritual heirs of St. Peter, who was traditionally the first head of the Roman church. 

Accounts in the Gospels and Paul's epistles suggest that Peter functioned as a leader and spokesman for the disciples while Jesus was alive, and that after the Ascension he became the head of the evolving Christian community in Jerusalem. Peter directs the disciples to select a successor to Judas; he speaks to the crowds on the day of Pentecost; and he is the first to perform a miracle in Jesus' name. It is Peter, not Paul, who first opens the community to the Gentiles by accepting Cornelius; and he seems to be in charge of the Apostles' Council where the admission of non-Jews was later settled. Although scripture is silent on whether he eventually traveled to Rome, that tradition appears very early and is certainly plausible. That tradition also holds that in the year 64, Peter was finally crucified in Rome during one of Nero's persecutions, fulfilling Jesus' prophecy that he would die a martyr's death.

Peter was obviously someone on whom Jesus depended greatly, someone on whom he felt he could reliably lay the greatest burdens of responsibility. But what on earth could make Jesus think so? Remember, we're talking about Peter, the bumbling disciple; the one who often doesn't understand the parable; the one who tries to dissuade Jesus when he talks about his impending death; the one who, after all, denied his Lord three times before the cock crowed - these are not good things to put on one's resume. Yet at the same time, Peter was the one who was most passionately devoted to his Master, the one who trusted Jesus to help him walk on the water, the one who immediately swam to shore when the Risen Lord appeared on the beach while the disciples were fishing. Perhaps most important, it is Peter who blurts out what he thinks of Jesus' identity: "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God." Peter may get it wrong a lot of the time, but when he gets it right, boy, does he get it right.

Throughout history, the servants God chooses have been enormously fallible vehicles. 

· Abraham lied to Pharaoh, saying that Sarah was his sister, not his wife, so that Abraham would receive better treatment; yet because Abraham trusted God, he became the father of a great nation. 
· Jacob cheated his brother Essau out of his rightful inheritance, and had to leave town because of it; yet because Jacob repented, he received the divinely-given name of "Israel," and his sons became the twelve tribes. 
· Jonah refused God's command to prophesy to the people of Nineveh, and ended up in the belly of a whale for it; yet when Jonah acquiesced, God still delivered him, and Jonah's preaching saved that city. 

God, it seems, does not need perfect individuals to do his will; instead, he looks for those who love and trust him faithfully, even when they forget that for a time.

That's good news to me, because I'm about as far from perfection as I can imagine. And - I don't mean this uncharitably - so are all of you. Now, admit it - there's not one of us who hasn't at some time lied like Abraham, or cheated someone like Jacob, or like Jonah turned away from what we thought God wanted us to do. But most of us, I think, are capable of realizing when we've gone wrong, and try to get back on the right track; and we also realize that we can only do so with God's help. So we open up again that connection with God, through prayer, meditation, service to others - we strive to regain the intimacy we once felt with God, we reach out for God's hand that already reaches out for us. And when that connection is re-established, we know it; life feels different then. We look at events in our lives from a new perspective; our understanding of who we are is furthered by our increasing, though incomplete, sense of who God is. If we're lucky, we can feel, maybe only for an instant, what it feels like to be in God's presence, surrounded by the love and the glory and power and the mercy. And in response we may utter "Alleluia" in wonder and awe.

Peter was having one of those moments in today's Gospel. Maybe he was primed by Jesus' question about who the people thought he was; the disciples may have been hesitant, thinking that Jesus was on the verge of telling them himself, but Jesus wants to gauge their understanding, and puts the question directly to them - "Who do you say that I am?" I imagine an awkward silence at first, as they all tried to think how best to respond; but then Peter cuts to the chase and exclaims his belief that Jesus is the Chosen One of God. 

That's a dangerous confession to make; the Pharisees are already out for Jesus' blood, and Peter's words could lead to a charge of blasphemy. But it is something that Peter knows in the depths of his soul - it's not a political statement, it's an expression of the truth that's in his heart, the truth that comes not from human knowledge and logic and strategy, but from faith in God. 

And that very faith is the rock upon which the Kingdom of God is built, and every faithful person is part of its foundation. Every follower of Jesus who makes the same profession as Peter also holds the keys of heaven, for it is by such faith that the celestial gates are opened. Those who have this faith know what is bound and loosed in heaven and on earth, not because they decide, but because they understand the truth. Jesus is not giving Peter a coronation here; he is using him as a model citizen of the communion of saints, a shining example to the blessed company of all faithful people.

I want to make clear that, by interpreting this Gospel passage as I do, I am not Catholic-bashing; because I do not put myself under the Pope's authority, I am not denying the validity of his ministry or the importance of his office for one branch of the Church. I will even admit that, although I disagree with much of his theology, I can see John Paul II as a model citizen of God's Kingdom, a faithful and devoted servant of our Lord. But neither my understanding of the historic papal office nor my admiration for the current Pope's spiritual fervor permits me to deny the honor - and burden - that Jesus seeks to lay on me as he did on Peter, and which he seeks to lay on each one of us when we follow Peter's example. I'm certainly not worthy of it much of the time, but then, neither was Peter (just a few verses later he's being rebuked by Jesus again). But if, like Peter, we pick ourselves up and rush right back to try and try again, then perhaps we will hear Jesus say, "Blessed are you, David; Blessed are you, Sarah; Blessed are you, Jeffrey; Blessed are each and every one of you. You all are Peter, each of you the rock on which I will build my church." Are you willing to receive the keys of the kingdom of heaven?

Amen.

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