This morning’s Gospel reading is Matthew 16:13–20:

Jesus went into the region of Caesarea Philippi and he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” They replied, “Some say John the Baptist, others Elijah, still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” Simon Peter said in reply, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”

Jesus said to him in reply, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah. For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my heavenly Father. 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. I will give you the keys to the kingdom of heaven. Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.” Then he strictly ordered his disciples to tell no one that he was the Christ.

In these days, with locks everywhere, people have a very good grasp of their meaning. Keys represent ownership and/or authority, which we learn at an early age. Some of us also learn the hard way what it means to have keys stolen and used to usurp authority or ownership. Keys unlock access to valued items of consequence, one way or another.

For instance, when my adult years began, I became a “keyholder” for the retail store at which I worked. With the authority to keep a set of keys, I got more compensation — but also more responsibility. If I was scheduled to open the store, I had to show up, and on time too. Otherwise, the other workers couldn’t get in and customers could not buy clothing and other merchandise. Needless to say, one core responsibility was to protect the keys and the employer who granted me that authority, too.

Was I “worthy” of that responsibility and authority? At eighteen, almost certainly not. But having accepted it, I did the best I could with it.

One of the most remarkable stories about keys comes from the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. An ancient church, it holds the tomb of Jesus as well as the traditional location of Golgotha, where He was crucified. The site dates back to the 4th century and governed mainly by three different Christian ecclesial authorities: Greek Orthodox, Armenian Apostolic, and the Franciscans under the authority of the Holy See.

None of them hold the keys to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, however. For nearly 900 years, the keys to the holiest church in Christendom have been held by two Muslim families:

The leader Salah Al-Din (Saladin) assigned the keys to the Joudeh Al-Husseini family on February 10, 1187, as the sole legitimate custodian of the keys and for the Nuseibeh family to open and close the doors of the church. These two Palestinian Muslim families have been performing this duty of honor every single day in a spirit of goodwill and respect for both faiths.

After 900 years, this is not exactly a secret, but it still can come as a surprise to people. A friend in Israel first told me this story when I came to Jerusalem for the first time, and I thought he was pulling my leg. It seems so incongruous on one hand, and on the other such a good item for reflection that it appealed to my sense of faith and history. And sure enough, my friend was completely correct.

This comes to mind for me when this Gospel reading comes up at Mass. For us, the idea of Peter receiving the keys to the kingdom seems normal because of our long knowledge of it. However, Peter later would abandoned Jesus, deny Him three times during the Passion, and at least from the Gospel accounts we have, might have been the weakest in faith of the other disciples in that moment of crisis, save Judas Iscariot and his betrayal. Indeed, before Jesus ascended, He had Peter proclaim his love three times as a counter to Peter’s earlier failures.

But the Lord does not judge and choose us for our perfection, and especially not for what we value in leadership. The Lord has a very long view indeed of His kingdom, and makes clear repeatedly that men judge such matters imperfectly. When the Lord sends Samuel out to find a successor to Saul, for instance, God warns Samuel not to use his own judgment but to rely on the Lord (1 Samuel 16:7):

But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”

In today’s first reading from Isaiah, we get the same lesson from the Lord, this time aimed at the palace administrator Shebna in the time of Hezekiah. In his arrogance, Shebna usurped the authority granted to him as steward of Hezekiah’s palace, and the Lord punished him by appointing a new master in his place:

Thus says the LORD to Shebna, master of the palace: “I will thrust you from your office and pull you down from your station. On that day I will summon my servant Eliakim, son of Hilkiah; I will clothe him with your robe, and gird him with your sash, and give over to him your authority. He shall be a father to the inhabitants of Jerusalem, and to the house of Judah. I will place the key of the House of David on Eliakim’s shoulder; when he opens, no one shall shut, when he shuts, no one shall open. I will fix him like a peg in a sure spot, to be a place of honor for his family.”

The Lord judges leaders by different standards than we do. And when those leaders lose sight of their responsibilities to the Lord for their stewardship of His people, He finds new leaders using that same judgment — as we can see in the cases of Saul and Shebna, as well as others.

Today’s Gospel has another key element to it that is also an analogue of sorts to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. When Saladdin granted the authority to the two Muslim families to control the access and operation of the church, he clearly intended that authority to pass down within the family lineage. Presumably, given the diplomatic value of continued access to the church for Christian pilgrims, Saladdin must have been convinced that these two families could be trusted to handle that authority with mercy and respect, not just in the present but in perpetuity. And for almost 900 years, that judgment has been proven correct.

Consider then the choice of Peter as the leader of Jesus’ new Church — the Church that reverses the model of salvation and becomes the new Jerusalem, going out to the nations rather than those coming to Jerusalem. The new Church would be a pilgrim Church, with priests going out to “makes disciples of all the nations,” as Jesus would command in the Great Commission at the end of Matthew.

With that in mind, Jesus chose the disciples/Apostles for the new model of salvation, and Peter as their leader. Rather than familial succession, however, the new Church would survive and thrive through apostolic succession, with the bishops ordaining successor bishops and Peter’s successors holding the keys to the new Church on Earth. The model of familial primogeniture would be useless for such authority — and at any rate, the kingdoms of Israel failed. Jesus wanted a Church to steward His people under His own kingship while Jesus waits for us in eternity.

More importantly, Jesus Himself created that specific mantle of leadership for Peter, apart from the authority granted the other Apostles. Knowing that the Church would extend far into the ages, Jesus chose not just Peter but also those who would follow in succession to Peter, according to the judgment of the Lord rather than the judgment of men.

And by the same token, Jesus also chooses us.  By our baptism, we become priests, prophets, and kings of His kingdom as well. The ordained have more authority and responsibility, but all of us are responsible for the Great Commission and the expansion of the Church. We are given lesser keys, perhaps, but still have both the authority and responsibility to perform our part in the Church, under the stewardship of the successors of the Apostles granted to them by Christ.

Are we “worthy” of it? No, but we must accept it and do with it the best we can. If that seems daunting or overwhelming, just remember this. God calls us to our potential, not to the impossible. If He sees fit to give us a key in the Church, we can rise to the moment — by relying on His grace and His mercy, and remembering where true authority rests.

The front page image is “Christ’s Charge to Peter” by Raphael, 1515. On display at the Victoria and Albert Museum. Via Wikimedia Commons. 

“Sunday Reflection” is a regular feature, looking at the specific readings used in today’s Mass in Catholic parishes around the world. The reflection represents only my own point of view, intended to help prepare myself for the Lord’s day and perhaps spark a meaningful discussion. Previous Sunday Reflections from the main page can be found here.