The Confession of St. Peter
Donna Joy

Matthew 16:13-20

Lately I’ve been re-reading Ann Garrido’s book ‘Let’s Talk About Truth: A Guide for Preachers, Teachers, and Other Leaders in a World of Doubt and Discord.’ In this book, Ann is helping preachers identify, assess, and convey truth in the midst of a post-truth, fake news culture. And then, yesterday, I read a concrete example of what this looks like in an article about an American Catholic preacher who got himself into a bit of turmoil last Sunday. That is, a number of parishioners actually walked out as he was preaching. (And yes, surprisingly, even during this COVID time they are gathering in the building multiple times each week. But I digress…)

My point here is that The Rev. Bill Corcoran spoke out, boldly and courageously about Donald Trump and the recent violence in Washington; he offered a theological reflection and critique on what took place… and this prompted some to get up and leave. He began with, “On this Feast of the Baptism of the Lord, we drink in the last goodness and glories of the Christmas season, and begin ordinary time on Monday.” So far, so good, right? But then came the next part of his message, as he said, “Goodness and glory are not two words that we would use to describe our past week when we saw an angry and violent mob seize our United States Capitol and interrupt Congress… Such an action has left many of us angry, and hurt. Since then we have entered a typical moment of finger pointing, blame, and holding people responsible for what happened. Such finger pointing is not new. In the very story of creation Adam points his finger at Eve for tempting him with the apple, and Eve points to the snake as the cause for all the trouble. Finger pointing often leads to avoidance of responsibility.”

As strong a message as this is, the most remarkable part was yet to come, as he went on to say, “I too want to engage in finger pointing, and point to myself, and accept personal responsibility in part for what happened in the Capital this past Wednesday,” This preacher went on to name the many times he failed to speak out about Donald Trump’s behaviour. Like when the president talked about grabbing women. When he mocked a disabled reporter. When he dissed John McCain.

This preacher went on to talk about much of the church’s failure to condemn Adolf Hitler, about the failure of the Catholic Church when faced with the sexual abuse committed by priests. He said, “As President Trump has lied about so many things, I have never spoken out, and fear we are teaching our young that truth and facts do not matter.” By Corcoran’s count, a dozen people walked out of Mass that morning. Nearly two dozen more at the 9:30 Mass, and likely thirty more at the 11:30.

This priest has agonized over the past week, filled with self-doubt and wonderings: (1) His role as priest is to keep people together, and he wondered if denouncing Trump’s behaviour would divide the congregation unnecessarily, (2) some feedback suggested that many people attend church to find peace and instead they’d found confrontation; (3) others said that they no longer felt welcome; that because they support Trump they feel they don’t belong in their church community anymore. So, yes, during this past week this preacher has questioned himself, wondering if he should have remained silent, or perhaps have chosen a different time. But he keeps returning to the same word as he responds to these agonizing wonderings. That is, ‘no.’

He still agonizes over those who responded negatively because the people who walked out are his parishioners and he is obligated to care for them as well. But then, he says, “…caring for them may also mean speaking the truth.”

Here I need to offer a quick word about how to discern ‘truth’, because I think we often discern truth based on inadequate – often even fake - information. With the help of Ann Garrido I’ve been exploring the work of a late Harvard Business School professor (Chris Argyris) who constructed a model called the ‘ladder of inference’ which describes the process that the human mind goes through in order to arrive at an opinion. A simple version of this model involves the image of a ladder; imagine climbing a ladder to reach something that requires attention (here you are climbing a ladder to reach an opinion: (1) the bottom rung – initial step – involves collecting available, reliable data; (2) the next step up the ladder involves carefully (and where possible, collaboratively) discerning the data that is helpful; (3) then, using reason and sound interpretation to work with the available data, and (4) reaching a conclusion based on all this work. So, as Christian leaders, we are called to become well informed about important events and issues, then speak boldly and with courage, always ensuring that we’re working with accurate and sufficient information. And this, for me, has served as a helpful backdrop to our focus this morning, which is the Confession of St. Peter.

Peter is SUCH a great role model because while he – himself – is incredibly flawed, he does have the potential – on a good day – to assess his available data and speak the truth even when this is risky. In this passage this morning, Peter seems to be having a good day. When Jesus asks the question, “Who do people say that the son of man is…” the others look to the past (John the Baptist, Elijah, Jeremiah, other prophets… NOT completely off the mark, as all these characters are intimately woven into the fabric of the fullness that IS Jesus… but these answers ONLY look back; they fail to also look ahead… But Peter seems to be on his game that particular day, and responds, “You’re the Messiah. You’re the son of the living God!” (On that day, Peter was able to collect, discern, and assess the information he had received and experienced with Jesus, and despite the danger in making such a proclamation, he said it, with enthusiasm and confidence.) And, of course, Jesus responds favorably to this, and he affirms that Peter is the rock upon which the church will be built…

Peter has much to learn, and many failures to overcome – including one in the very next passage in Matthew’s gospel. But even this is part of the process. Jesus’ new community after all, will consist simply of forgiven sinners.

As we delve into the whole rest of the New Testament, we can see that Peter (despite his occasional cowardice and impulsiveness) really does grow into the role that Jesus set before him. Because of his ability to collect, discern, and interpret necessary data about Jesus and the surrounding community, he increasingly speaks boldly and with courage, often at times when this could create tremendous risk to him and this new Christian community. HE IS the rock upon which the church is built. And, for us as the Anglican Parish of St. Peter, during this past year, we have discovered that this ‘rock’ exists far beyond the building in which we worship.

I believe, that when Jesus chooses Peter, even though far from perfect, he is establishing expectations for all those who answer his call to follow. This rock does not confine us to any one place, it calls us to a particular way of being. That is, to be rooted in the life, death, resurrection, and teachings of Jesus, and to live, act, and speak accordingly. Whenever we see the dignity of anyone being compromised or sacrificed, we, as Christians rooted in the compassionate love and sacrifice of Jesus, must not remain silent. The conviction that Jesus is Messiah is the place to begin. And from there it is an ongoing process of discerning what it is, in concrete and specific terms, to boldly and courageously proclaim (in word and deed) the good news of Jesus the Messiah in our communities, our work, and this world in which we live.