Homily | August 23, 2026 | Finding Christ In A World Full Of Competing Voices | (Episode 243)

That question in today's gospel is one that no one can answer for you.

Not your mother, not your spouse, not your pastor, not the person sitting next to you.

It is one of those questions in life where knowing the correct answer is not always enough.

Because eventually Jesus will look directly at you and ask, but who do you say that I am?

But first notice where Jesus takes the disciples.

He brings them far away, away from the familiar towns around Galilee to Caesarea Philippi.

And Jesus does not choose that place accidentally.

Caesarea Philippi was crowded, and it had many gods.

There were ancient pagan shrines, a sanctuary associated with the god of Pan, and a magnificent temple decorate dedicated to Caesar Augustus.

Everywhere the disciples looked, they saw monuments of power, empire, religion, and human ambition.

Imagine standing there.

Temples, statues, altars, power, and in the middle of all that noise, Jesus turns to the twelve ordinary men and asks them a very quiet question.

Who do people say that the Son of Man is?

Jesus still asks that question in noisy places.

He does not ask it only when we're kneeling peacefully in the chapel.

Sometimes he'll ask that in the hospital parking lot after the doctor has said something we don't never wanted to hear.

Or sometimes he'll ask it when the marriage is hanging by a thread.

Sometimes he'll ask it when an adult child has walked away from the faith.

Sometimes he asks it when someone we love dies.

And sometimes he asks it when everything is going well, when we have achieved what we wanted, bought what we wanted, become what we wanted, and discover that somehow we are still feeling empty.

It is in those moments beneath all that noise that there's the question, Who do you say that I am?

Well, the disciples begin answering them by saying, Well, some say you're John the Baptist, others Elijah, still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.

Nobody's insulting Jesus.

Every answer is a compliment.

John the Baptist, Elijah, Jeremiah, these are all giants of Israel.

They admire Jesus.

They believe he's extraordinary.

And every answer, but every answer is wrong.

Because their answer should make us uncomfortable.

One of the greatest dangers of Christianity is not simply rejecting Jesus, it's reducing Jesus.

Jesus, the great teacher, Jesus the great man who went around doing nice things, the moral example, the social reformer, the inspirational figure, Jesus who comfort comfort comforts me when I when life is difficult.

Jesus who conveniently agrees with everything I believe.

Some of those descriptions contain parts of truth, but they're not enough.

A moral teacher cannot forgive your sins.

A social reformer cannot conquer death.

An inspirational figure cannot raise you from the grave.

When your mortality finally looks you in the face, you're going to need more than an admired teacher.

You're going to need a savior.

So Jesus changes that question.

He stops asking what everyone else thinks, looks at them in the eye, and says, But who do you say that I am?

And Peter answers, You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.

That's the hinge of the entire gospel.

Because until that moment the disciples had been talking about Jesus, now Peter speaks directly to Jesus.

There's an enormous difference between knowing about God and knowing God.

It is possible to spend your entire life around Christianity, about around Catholicism, without really surrendering your life to Christ.

Is it still possible to keep Jesus at a safe distance?

Yes.

I'll call you when I need you.

But notice Peter responds, not people say that you are, or some people, or my parents taught me that you are.

Not even the church says that you are.

No, you are the Christ.

And then something beautiful happens.

Peter says to Jesus, You are the Christ, and Jesus responds, and you are Peter.

Peter tells Jesus who Jesus is, and Jesus tells Peter who Peter is.

That's not accidental.

Because we will never fully understand who we are until we understand who Christ is.

The world tells us, find yourself.

Jesus says, follow me.

And somewhere in following him, we discover ourselves.

If you truly are following Christ, you will find yourself.

Discover who you are.

Discover your gifts.

Discover the life that God has for you.

We discover that our identity is not something we want or invent, it is something we receive from the one who created us and has called us by name.

Simon comes to Jesus as a fisherman.

Jesus gives him a new identity, and that new identity comes with a mission.

You are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church.

This is where the first reading is so important.

Isaiah tells us about a man named Shebna, a very powerful royal steward.

He had been entrusted with a lot, with authority and given an office of service, but something went terribly wrong.

Just before the passage we heard today, God confronts Shebna because he's carved out an elaborate tomb for himself high up on a rock.

Think about that.

He had been given an office through which he was supposed to serve others.

And he turns that into a monument to himself, his position, his legacy, his name, his tomb carved into a rock.

And God takes that office from him.

Now, if we go back to Caesarea Philippi, Jesus looks at Peter and says, Upon this rock I will build my church.

There's the contrast.

Shebna uses the rock to build a monument for himself.

Peter is made rock so that Christ can build something for others.

The tomb or the temple?

That's the examination of conscience placed before us today because every one of us is building something in our life.

Every decision that we make, every sacrifice, every hour, every relationship, every talent that God has given us, what are we building with?

We're building something.

In my whole life becoming one elaborate monument to myself, a legacy to leave, my comfort, my reputation, my plans, my success, my need to be noticed, my need to control everything, my need to always be right.

There's nothing wrong with achievement.

There's nothing wrong with success.

But the question is whether everything God has given me ends with me.

That's the end goal.

Because one day somebody else will live in your house, somebody else will have your job, somebody else will drive your car, somebody else will sit at your desk, and eventually your name will be spoken about less and less.

I don't want to depress you.

But that's the truth.

And it should be liberating.

It means your life was never supposed to be about a monument, it was supposed to be about a gift.

That's the vocation.

A mother pours herself out to her children.

A father quietly remains faithful.

A young person asking not merely what career will make me successful so that I can have things, but Lord, what do you want me to do with my life?

A husband deciding that his marriage matters more than his pride.

A person choosing forgiveness when resentment would be so much easier.

A priest remembering that the parish does not belong to him, it belongs to Jesus Christ.

That's how the church is built.

Stone by stone, life by life, one surrender at a time.

Shebna carved out his name on a rock.

Peter allowed Christ to build upon him.

The tomb or the temple.

Who do you say that I am?

In just a few moments, something extraordinary will happen on this altar.

Bread and wine, through the prayer of the church and the power of the Holy Spirit, become the body and blood of Jesus Christ, whether you believe that or not.

Then I will lift that host before you and say, Behold the Lamb of God.

Do you realize what that moment is?

It is Caesarea Philippi all over again.

The world outside this church is crowded with gods, with distraction.

Money will ask for your allegiance, success will ask for your allegiance, your work will ask for your allegiance, pleasure will ask, power will ask, your ego will ask for your allegiance.

And in the middle of all those competing voices, a small white host is lifted up to you.

Behold the Lamb of God, and Jesus will ask you again today, who do you say that I am?

If it is merely a piece of bread, then none of this will make sense to you.

Everything I'm saying is just a hill of beans.

But if this is Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God, the one who died for you, who rose from the dead, then he cannot simply be one thing among the many things in your life.

He has to be the very center.

Who do you say that I am?

Peter answered him with words.

Eventually Peter would answer him with his life.

That's the answer Jesus wants from you, too.

So when you come forward today, do not receive communion merely out of habit.

Come to him.

And somehow, between your pew and this altar, give him your answer.

You are the Christ.

You are my Savior.

You are the one that I love above all things.

And whatever remains of my life, I give it to you freely, so that you can build something with it.

Not a monument for myself, but something for you, Lord.

The tomb or the temple.

At the end of it, it's your choice.

You can build a great monument and a great legacy for yourself, or you can allow Jesus to build his temple.

Who do you say that I am?

Do not answer him with a compliment.

Do not answer him only with words.

Answer him today with your actions and with your very life.

Amen.