Don't Call Me Rocky

“And so I say to you, you are Peter,
and upon this rock I will build my church,
and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it. ” (Mt 16:18)
 
Simon must have trembled when Jesus called him “Rock.”  Yes, his behavior shows him to be full of enthusiastic devotion to Christ his Lord.  In gospel stories he is always there, with Jesus, and is usually the first to open his mouth in response to events and questions to profess his loyalty to his Lord.  On more than one occasion, he is shown leaping into the sea in his eagerness to draw closer to Jesus.  And yet his zeal is often impatient, overconfident, rash, and we see him stumbling, failing, and at the critical moment, denying his Lord.  A week from now, we will hear Jesus call him, not Peter, but Satan.  Simon Peter must a have known, deep down, that where faith was concerned, “Rocky” was closer to the truth.
 
Jesus had asked his disciples a searching question: “Who do you say that I AM?” to which the answer could not come from flesh and blood.  And when the earth-shaking answer came, out of the mouths of babes, it was requited with the no less earth-shaking answer to an unasked question: “Who do you say that I am?”
 
Peter did not ask Jesus, “Who do you say that I am?” but Jesus told him anyway.  It seems that recognizing Jesus as Lord goes hand in hand with receiving one’s own deepest identity and mission.  Perhaps this is what makes the whole thing so scary.  It takes courage even to allow these questions to be asked.  Yet more courage is needed to wait for the answer, not from flesh and blood, but from above – to wait in silence, without rushing to fill in the blanks with something superficial.
 
This week, I have found myself sitting before these questions, mute, unenlightened and fidgety.  I do not have an answer to Jesus’ question: “Who do you say that I AM?”  Who knows, perhaps this is because I am afraid to hear his answer to the unasked question: “Who do you say that I am?”  What if a word like “Rock” were to come from his mouth and mark me forever?  How could I possibly live up to that?  I am no rock.  As the monastic father John Cassian put it: “What is weaker than a monk?”  A monk is like a spiritual hedgehog, hiding behind the shelter of a rock, which is the recollection of the Lord’s passion (Conferences 10.11.1).
 
Immediately after making solemn profession, I went through a period of anxiety about the unknown future stretching out before me, with responsibilities, expectations, burdens and worries assailing me on every side.  At some point I was given an image – perhaps in a dream, I don’t remember exactly – an image which gave expression and clarity to my feelings, as well as an answer to them.  The image that came was of a huge rock, balanced on a single point.  This rock teetered over an abyss, into which it could fall at any moment and be smashed to pieces.  That it did not fall, but was held, balanced with perfect ease upon so weak and uncertain a point, filled me with awe.  This image told me that my life was utterly precarious and yet totally safe with God.
 
None of us knows exactly what will be asked of us in life.  Nor can we imagine what hitherto unrecognized strengths will be brought to light in the midst of crisis or hardship.  Who wants to be called “Rock”?  We would much rather cry out as the Psalmist does so many times: “Lord, be my rock of safety” (Ps 31:2 see also Pss 18:2; 19:14; 28:1; 42:9; 62:2; 71:3; 78:35; 89:26; 92:15; 94:22; 95:1; 144:1-2).  It’s true, God is our Rock.  But he may call us to be a rock for others, a place of refuge, a place to lean.
 
All I can say is that I will need to sit longer in the uneasy company of these questions, waiting to hear from the Lord’s mouth the answer that is my own deep self, though not for myself only.