Homily - Matthew 16:13-20
Let me tell you about Michael.
I met Michael a few years ago. A young father, first baby, came to the parochial house with his wife for Baptism preparation. Great lad, works hard. And while his wife was filling out the form, we had a minute together. He just looked at me and said, "Father, can I be honest with you? I don't even know who I am anymore."
He wasn't being dramatic. He said, "At work I'm the man who never says no. At home I'm trying to be like the perfect dad I see everyday on Instagram and Facebook . With my own parents I'm still trying to be the good son who made them proud. I'm tired, Father. I'm playing three different people, and I'm not sure any of them is really me."
I have often thought about Michael’s comments since. Because Michael is all of us, isn't he? The great philosopher Aristotle gave us that line that is written over every school library: "Know thyself." It sounds so wise. So simple. But the truth is, most of us have given up on it. We don't want to know ourselves at all. What we desperately want to know is what other people think of ourselves.
We live on a hunger for affirmation. That little hit of praise. "You did well." "You look great." "You're a great mother." And without even realizing it, we start to write a script. We start to live the life we assume others expect us to behave. We become actors on a stage, always wondering what the audience in the front row thinks of the performance. And that is exactly why I love where Jesus asks His great question in the Gospel today.
He brings His disciples to Caesarea Philippi. I want you to picture it. It was not a quiet, holy place. It was a noisy, show-off town. A place full of statues to false gods, full of temples, full of people shouting about who was the most powerful, who was the most popular. It was the Facebook feed of the ancient world. Everyone performing. Everyone with an opinion.
Right in the middle of all that noise, Jesus stops. And He asks a question that sounds like something we would ask: "Who do people say that the Son of Man is?" "What's the word on the street, lads? What are they saying about me out there?" And the apostles give Him the poll results. They know the gossip. "Some say John the Baptist. Some say Elijah. Others say Jeremiah or one of the prophets."
In other words: "People are confused, Jesus. People are putting you in a box. They are making you smaller than you are to fit their expectations." Doesn't that sound like our lives? The world puts us in a box too. "He's the quiet one." "She's the one whose marriage failed." "He's just a farmer." "She's just a mother." And if we hear it enough times, we start to believe it. We start to live inside the box.
But Jesus doesn't stay there. He shuts down the opinion poll. He looks them in the eye - and this morning, my friends, He looks you and me in the eye - and He says: "But YOU. Who do YOU say that I am?" He moves the question from the crowd to the heart. From the outside in.
That second question is completely different. The first question is about hearsay. The second question is about relationship. It's not "What did you hear about me?" It's "Who am I to you? When the crowd is gone and it's just you and me, who am I to you?" And Simon Peter - impetuous, flawed, big-hearted Peter who is going to get it wrong again next week - blurts out the truth of his whole life:
"You are the Christ, the Son of the living God." And here, my dear people, is the miracle that changed Michael's life and will change ours. The very second Peter declares who Jesus is, Jesus declares who Peter is. "Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven. And I tell you, YOU ARE PETER, and on this rock I will build my Church." Do you see it? When we finally answer who Christ is, we finally discover who we are.
Why should we worry about what others say about us? The world will always have an opinion. Caesarea Philippi will always be noisy. The recipe for a content life is not becoming who others think I am. That is a recipe for exhaustion. The recipe for a content life is to be at peace with who I am - a person created by God out of love, on purpose, for a purpose. Not perfect. But His. And that is enough.
So what is the true, overriding message of this Gospel for our lives today, for Michael and for me and for you? It is this: You will never know who you are until you know who Jesus is to you. Stop living for the applause of a town that will forget you tomorrow. Stop asking, "What do they think of me?" Start asking the only question that matters, every morning before you pick up the phone:
"Jesus, who are You to me today?" Answer Him honestly. Is He just a prophet, a story, a Sunday habit? Or is He the Christ, the Son of the living God, the one who holds my life together? If you can answer that second one, even in a whisper, you will hear Him answer back. And He will say your name. He will say, "You are mine. You are rock. You are blessed. And you don't have to perform anymore." And for the first time in a long time, you will be free. Amen.