Homilies
On This Rock I Will Build My Church
Holy Spirit take my words and speak to each of us according to our need.
“You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church.” There are some words in the Bible that have become so familiar that we almost just hear them without understanding them.
So what is the rock that Jesus is talking about? Does the “rock” mean Peter? Does it mean Peter’s faith? Does it mean Jesus? Does it mean the declaration that Peter made about Jesus being the Son of Man?
There are so many way to read this phrase that all of those questions matter and have mattered to countless theologians through history
But I wonder whether there is a simpler way of hearing these words, without all the church speak and theology. A way that is experienced rather than defined. That would make this phrase less about power and authority, and much more about grace.
I believe that in these words, Jesus is doing something extraordinary. He doesn't say to Simon: “You are a rock because you are strong.” He doesn't say: “You are a rock because you have never failed.” He doesn't even say: “You are a rock because you understand everything.” He simply says: “You are Peter.”
In doing this, Jesus gives Simon a new identity. One that points beyond just being a name to something else.
Think about something as ordinary as a signpost. A signpost might say: “Church — ½ mile.” Nobody stops and admires the signpost because they think the signpost is the church. The signpost has value because it points beyond itself.
If you took the signpost away from the road and put it in the middle of a field, it would still be a piece of wood or metal, but it would no longer really fulfil its purpose. Its meaning comes from being where it is useful and in what it points towards.
Or think about a photograph of someone you love. The photograph isn't the person. We know that. And yet we treasure it. Why? Because the photograph derives its meaning from the person it represents. We don’t believe the photograph is that person, but that the photograph points beyond itself to someone we love.
And I think something like that is happening with Peter. Peter matters. Peter really is being given an important role. But Peter's significance doesn't ultimately come from Peter. Peter points beyond Peter.
He is the “rock” because of the one who calls him Rock. He is a foundation because Christ is building upon him.
He has authority because Christ entrusts it to him. His identity comes from the one who called him. And that is also one of the most important things we should remember about ourselves as well.
Peter wasn't naturally a rock Because if we are honest, Peter is a slightly strange choice. If Jesus was looking for someone who was naturally dependable, calm, measured and consistently wise, Peter probably wouldn't have been at the top of the list. Peter is impulsive. He speaks before he thinks. Peter, like us, gets things spectacularly right at times and also spectacularly wrong.
In today's Gospel Peter makes an extraordinary confession: “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” Jesus tells him that he has received this understanding from God. And then, almost immediately, Peter then gets it wrong.
Jesus begins explaining that being the Messiah will involve suffering and death and Peter basicially says, “No. That isn't how this is going to work.”
And then Jesus says to him: “Get behind me, Satan.” The man who has just been called ‘Rock’ is suddenly being told that he is getting in the way of God's purposes.
Peter is a rock. And at the same time, he is a stumbling block. Peter is a disciple. And also someone who still has an enormous amount to learn.
And that might just be the point. Jesus doesn't choose Peter because Peter is already perfect. Jesus chooses Peter and then begins making him into what he has called him to be.
For example, think about a child who is given a violin for the first time. We don't hand them the violin and say: “Now prove that you deserve this by playing perfectly.” Initially they might produce something that sounds like a cat being stepped on but we don't throw the violin away. We teach them. We allow them to practise. We encourage them.
Gradually something happens. The child becomes a musician. The instrument hasn't changed but the person holding it has.
Or think about someone beginning a new job. Perhaps they have been appointed manager even though they don't feel like a manager. On the first day they may think: “What on earth am I doing here? Everyone is going to discover that I don't really know what I'm doing.”
But over time they learn. They make mistakes. They ask questions. They become more confident. Eventually people come to them for advice. They have become the person they were originally appointed to be. The appointment came before the competence was complete.
This is what we see, time after time with Peter. Yet, Jesus sees something in Peter that Peter himself cannot yet see. Jesus calls him before Peter is ready. Jesus entrusts him with responsibility before Peter has become the finished article. That is grace.
The Church was, and still is, built on people who are becoming. We often imagine that the Church ought to be full of people who have everything sorted out. People with unshakeable faith. People who always know what to say. People who never doubt. People who never lose their temper. People who never get things wrong. People who are, metaphorically speaking, completely solid rocks.
But Peter doesn't look like that. And neither do we. The Church has always been made up of people who believe and doubt, who get things right and get things wrong, who love God deeply but sometimes struggle to feel God's presence. People who make brave decisions and then make terrible ones.
People who have been wounded and who have wounded others. Those who are learning how to forgive and those who are learning how to receive forgiveness.
That isn't a weakness of the Church. It is part of the miracle of the Church. Because if God can build something on Peter, God can build something on us. Not because we are strong enough but because God is gracious enough.
Peter's failures don't become the end of his vocation but they do become part of the story through which he learns what grace actually means. Peter can eventually strengthen others precisely because he knows what it is like to be weak. He can understand forgiveness because he has needed forgiveness. He can care for people who make mistakes because he knows what that feels like.
The rock isn't someone who has never fallen. The rock is someone whom Christ has raised up again. And that should also change how we think about ourselves.
There will be times when we all feel particularly “unrock-like”. Uncertainties, mistakes, doubts, maybe feeling like an imposter. We might wonder why God would call us to do anything worthwhile.
But notice what Jesus does with Peter. Jesus doesn't wait until Peter has become perfect. He begins with who Peter actually is. Simon. Impulsive Simon. Failing Simon. Questioning Simon. And Jesus says: “You are Peter.” In other words: “I know who you are. And I know who you can become.” That is grace.
But there is also one more important thing Peter's identity only makes sense because of Christ. Peter isn't the ultimate rock. Christ is. Peter is a rock because he belongs to Christ. Peter points beyond himself. And that is the way any Christian life should work.
If someone looks at us and sees only us, something has gone wrong. Our kindness should point beyond us. As should our compassion, our faith, our service and our worship.
Even our weaknesses can point beyond us and remind us that we don't have to be self-sufficient. We are not the source. We are signs.
Like the moon reflecting the light of the sun. The moon doesn't generate the light. But on a dark night it can still help us see.
That is what Christian discipleship is. Not becoming the source of everything but becoming increasingly transparent to the One who is.
So what does it mean to be a rock? I think it means something very different from what we normally imagine. It doesn't mean being hard or never changing. It doesn't mean never crying or always knowing the answer. It doesn't mean never falling.
It means becoming someone upon whom others can find some stability because Christ has become our stability. It means being able to say: “I don't have all the answers, but I know the One who does.” Or “I have failed, but I have also been forgiven.” It also means believing that “I am still becoming.” And “if Christ can use Peter, then Christ can use me.”
Jesus says: “You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church.” Christ can take ordinary, imperfect people and make them signs of something extraordinary. Peter points to Christ.
And so can we, not because we are already everything we ought to be, but because of the One from whom our identity comes.
We are not the source of the light. We are not the foundation. We are not the builder. But we can become signs of the light. We can become living stones in the building. We can become people upon whom others can lean for a moment. And we can trust that Christ sees more in us than we see in ourselves. By His grace, we can become what Christ has already called us to be.
Amen.