270. Twelfth Sunday of Ordinary Time (C)

Meditations no. 582 (unofficial computer-aided translation)

Making Christ known to those who do not know Him or know Him inadequately.

When he was praying alone, and the disciples were with him, he asked them, “Who do the nations say that I am?” They answered, “John the Baptist. But there are those who say that Elijah, and others that one of the ancient prophets has been raised.”

With these words St. Luke begins to narrate the scene of the life of the Lord that the Church proposes to us. It is a central scene in many respects, which are also recounted by other evangelists with a wealth of details, especially St. Matthew. The events take place in the region of Caesarea Philippi, located on the borders of Israel, near the border with Syria. The Son of God wanted to go there, to bring his light and his salvation to the inhabitants of those remote places: Jews and also Gentiles of Greek language and culture, whose presence was strongly felt in that society. Illustrative in this regard is the name of the city that presided over the region, built in honor of the Roman Caesar. For the non-Jewish inhabitants of the area, polytheists, the worship of Yahweh would perhaps be a socially accepted and even respected reality, but little known. It is probable that, in that environment, not always conducive to the beliefs and practice of the doctrine of Moses, religious convictions among some Jews would have been weakened.

That situation has a certain analogy with that which can be observed today in societies with Christian roots and cultural traditions, in which the painful cooling of the faith of not a few baptized people - and the corresponding deterioration of moral attitudes - has been associated with a progressive increase in religious and ethnic diversity. Just as then, when his steps were directed towards the region of Caesarea Philippi, so now the Lord continues to pass through these frontier lands that are, in a certain way, contemporary societies. He has gone out to meet all souls. He wants to draw back to the truth so many disoriented Christians, and all those who meet him on their daily journey.

To carry out this mission he wanted to count on us. In addition to giving us the Christian faith, he brought us to Opus Dei by taking us from the crowd, without taking us out of our place, and he sent us back to where we were before, to do - now in his name - the Work: to open the divine paths of the earth. The Lord has sent us to immunize all mortals from corruption and to illuminate all intelligences with the lights of Christ, being like an intravenous injection, placed in the circulatory stream of society.

Our Father repeats it to each one of us: we have come, beloved daughters and sons, to indoctrinate the people, with a teaching that is both simple and most fruitful. God asks us to tell all souls that they can and must seek personal holiness in their own state, each in his own, and in his trade or profession, in the midst of the world. Thus the ideal of holiness, unique and common to all Christians, is accessible through the different states or kinds of life, without leaving them, because they are so many divine paths that lead us to the Lord: it is enough to fulfill, in each state and office, the duties that our own state and our work impose, because in this way we fulfill the Will of our Father God.

Christ lives, he is present in the present time as he was twenty centuries ago.

Let us reconsider the scene recounted by St. Luke, with which we began our meditation. In accordance with his usual way of proceeding, the Lord has withdrawn alone to pray. He speaks with his heavenly Father of the mission entrusted to him: the salvation of all men. His thoughts go to those who have already believed in him, and accompany him, as well as to those who have heard his voice and have seen his works, but do not yet follow him. Also the subject of his prayer, it is reasonable to suppose, are the inhabitants of that region in which he now finds himself, where many already know him by hearsay and others have not heard of him. Meditating on the example of Christ, our Father came to the conclusion that the apostolate, whatever it may be, is a superabundance of the interior life; and he exhorted us to seek first of all that indispensable support in our work as souls. If we want to help others, if we sincerely intend to push them to discover the true meaning of their destiny on earth, we must base ourselves on prayer.

The disciples have delicately respected that time of recollection of the Master, and now they are again with Him. Perhaps they did not expect the question that he is going to address to them, but the promptness of the answer seems to indicate that this argument had been a topic of conversation among them. With their words they synthesize the opinions about Jesus that spread from mouth to mouth, and testify to the admiration aroused by the words and actions of the Lord. The personages mentioned - John the Baptist, Elijah, one of the ancient prophets - of whose ideal image Jesus would be a perfect replica, were all great personalities, exemplary figures in the history of Israel.

But the answer also contains an ambiguous presupposition, or perhaps a prejudice: the names cited are indeed worthy of admiration, but in reality they are situated in the past; these people may still be the object of attraction, but not properly of current following. They belong to a time that is behind us. And with them, the relevance of their words and attitudes has also been left behind.

Obviously it is a question of faith: if Christ is conceived only as a great historical figure, but does not believe in him as a living and present God, he cannot be the foundation of any life, nor the foundation of convictions that determine the here and now of one’s own existence, shaped in everything by a Christian lifestyle. What a great impulse of faith and love are contained, on the contrary, in the words that our Father wrote in one of his homilies: Christ is not a figure who passed away, who existed at one time and who left, leaving us a wonderful memory and example.

No: Christ lives. Jesus is Emmanuel: God with us. His Resurrection reveals to us that God does not abandon his own. He is the continual newness of all historical moments, the perennial newness of all times.

For this reason, the second question that the Lord addressed to his disciples in Caesarea Philippi remains today as it was not only important, but crucial: you, who do you say that I am? “What a rich meaning the word ‘you’ has here!” comments St. Cyril of Alexandria. “Jesus separates the disciples from all the others, so that they avoid falling into the opinion of others. In this way, they will not form an unworthy idea about him, nor will they nourish confused and hesitant thoughts. Nor will they imagine that John or one of the prophets has risen. He comes to say to them: ‘You who have been chosen, who by my decree have been called to the apostolate, who do you say that I am?’”

Peter’s response, in the name of all, is immediate: the Christ of God. Or as St. Matthew writes, in the parallel text of his Gospel: You are the Christ, the Son of the living God. You are, Lord, the same God: in you is the beginning and the permanent cause of our life, the inexhaustible source of our hope; our gaze is constantly turned to you, and in your infinite mercy our hearts rest. Christ with his Incarnation, with his life of work in Nazareth, with his preaching and miracles in the lands of Judea and Galilee, with his death on the Cross, with his Resurrection, is the centre of creation, the firstborn and Lord of every creature.

Our mission as Christians is to proclaim that Kingship of Christ, to proclaim it with our word and with our deeds.

Following the Lord on the way of the Cross, every day, is the way to bear fruit in the apostolate.

AFTER Peter’s confession of faith, as St. Matthew recounts, the Lord revealed the divine will to build the Church on the solid rock of the Prince of the Apostles. To Simon Peter and his successors throughout history, the Roman Pontiffs, he promises the unwavering gift of the Primacy over the whole Church, as he will confirm after the Resurrection when he entrusts to Peter the task of shepherding all the faithful.

But the scene of Caesarea, which we contemplate today following the narrative of St. Luke, contains another fundamental teaching, which sheds light on another central reality of the Christian’s existence. This is how the Evangelist relates it. And he said to them all: “If anyone wants to come after me, let him deny himself, let him take up his cross daily, and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it; but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it.” The disciples found it difficult to understand this reference to the Cross, unexpected for them, but so present and alive in the soul of Christ, since the Cross was the goal to which he was going out of love for his Father God and for love of us. By revealing that the path of his following is inseparable from Calvary, the Lord is revealing to us the intimate nature of the Christian vocation. Christ says it again to us, as to the ear, intimately: the Cross every day. Not only, writes St. Jerome, in the time of persecution, or when the possibility of martyrdom presents itself, but in every situation, in every work, in every thought, in every word, let us deny what we once were and confess what we are now, since we have been reborn in Christ (St. Jerome, Epistle 121:3).

All his children know of the love with which our Father wrote in his Covenant every year: In laetitia, nulla dies sine cruce!, which he also repeated to us often to teach us to walk with him the path of generosity and joy. Remember the words of Christ: if anyone wants to follow me, let him deny himself, take up his cross daily and follow me (Lk 9:23). Do you see it? The cross every day. Nulla dies sine cruce!, no day without a Cross: no day in which we do not carry the Cross of the Lord, in which we do not accept his yoke. For this reason, I did not wish to fail to remind you that the joy of the Resurrection is a consequence of the pain of the Cross.

On hearing these words, a simple and filial request spontaneously comes to our minds and hearts: grant, Lord, that I may know you when you pass by me daily with your Cross, inviting me to carry it with you. Grant that I, as your good disciple, may be convinced that in order to imitate and follow you it is necessary to deny myself and take up your Cross with joy.

A final piece of advice from our Father helps us to concretize our prayer for this day, which we place in the hands of the Blessed Virgin, into purposes of struggle. From now on, be in haste to love. Love will prevent us from complaining, from protesting. Because we often endure setbacks, yes; but we lament; and then, in addition to wasting God’s grace, we cut off his hands for future requirements. Hilarem enim datorem diligit Deus (2 Cor 9:7), God loves those who give joyfully, with the spontaneity that is born of a heart in love, without the fuss of one who gives himself as if he were doing a favor.