The Good News for the 24th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Sept. 17, 2000
Isaiah 50:5-9a
James 2:14-18
Mark 8:27-35

My conversations with Jean Langlais in the organ loft at the church of Ste. Clothilde in Paris are still deeply imprinted in my memory, even though they happened 20 years ago and Langlais has since died. He used to let organ students into the loft during Sunday services to watch him play. I had studied and played some of his music, which he composed at that organ, the same one where composers Cesar Franck and Charles Tournemire had also played, Sunday after Sunday.

As Mass drew to its close one wintry Epiphany morning, Langlais announced to his assembled apprentices that he was about to play the flashy conclusion to the Epiphany suite by Charles Tournemire. "Oh!" I gasped. I had heard this piece before. It was devilishly difficult for the player, and powerful enough to freeze a listener's soul. "I know that piece!" I gushed.

Langlais lifted his head. He was blind, but he still looked right at me. "You know the piece?" he asked. I felt embarrassed, so I explained, "I know the piece, but I do not play the piece."

"Ah," he said. "I play the piece, but I do not know the piece."

I learned a lot about music that day. I learned how much more there is to know even after you think you know. I suspect Peter learned a similar lesson about Jesus in next Sunday's Gospel (Mark 8:27-35). He knew who Jesus was, but he did not really know.

This Gospel juxtaposes two scenes in the life of Jesus and Peter. Jesus elicits from Peter a correct answer to the question of his divine identity. But then Peter demonstrates he really did not understand the very answer Jesus gave.

This passage serves as a centerpoint in Mark's Gospel. In fact, it is almost exactly in the middle of the text. It summarizes the first half of the Gospel and prepares for the second.

Throughout the first part, the Gospel asks, "Who is Jesus?" Demons knew the answer, but religious leaders ignored it. Now the question comes point-blank: "Who do you say that I am?" This, the most personal question Jesus ever asked the disciples, is the key question from Mark to the reader. After studying the assembled evidence, who do you say that Jesus is?

Peter gives the correct answer: "You are the Christ." Embedded in that answer is belief in God who called Israel to be the chosen people, who established anointed leaders, and who appointed prophets to fan Israel's hope in times of oppression. By calling Jesus "the Christ," Peter essentially proclaimed him to be the fulfillment of hope foreseen, the latest in the long line of Israel's anointed leaders.

Jesus responds unpredictably. He tells them not to tell anyone. Then he makes a prediction - not about royalty, authority, and costumes, but about suffering, rejection, and murder. The foretelling of the Resurrection is practically buried in this bloody future vision.

Peter rebukes Jesus, telling him that's not the kind of Christ he had in mind. Jesus rebukes Peter, telling him he's not the kind of disciple he had in mind. Being Christ requires suffering, and being a disciple requires the cross.

This conversation changes the whole direction of the Gospel. It takes place at Caesarea Philippi, about as far north as you can go in Israel, and from there the whole story goes south, so to speak. The shadow of the cross lengthens all the way from here to Calvary.

The lectionary pairs today's Gos-pel with a passage from Isaiah (50:5-9a). This passage also serves as the first reading on Wednesday of Holy Week. It is the third of the "songs of the suffering servant." The singer, symbolic of Israel, foreshadowing Jesus, suffers beatings, buffets, and spitting. But the song continues, "I have set my face like flint," knowing that God will provide all the help one could need.

These texts serve as a warning to those who think they know their religious belief. We know, but we do not know. We think we have Jesus figured out, but then some suffering happens within the body of Christ - to a friend, a family member or to us - and we assume Peter's attitude. We say that's not what being Christ is all about. But in many painful ways, Jesus reminds us again and again that if our image of him excludes the role of suffering in salvation, that is not what being a disciple is all about.

Father Paul Turner is pastor of St. John Francis Regis Parish, Kansas City.