Bishop Barron's Sunday Sermon on Peter's Confession and the Endurance of the Church
Bishop Robert Barron delivers a Sunday sermon on Matthew 16 and the question Jesus poses at Caesarea Philippi.
Summary
Bishop Barron preaches on the 21st Sunday of Ordinary Time, focusing on the scene at Caesarea Philippi in Matthew Chapter 16, where Jesus asks his disciples, "Who do people say that the Son of Man is?" He argues that this question is uniquely strange among the world's religious founders — no other figure, from the Buddha to Muhammad to Moses, made his own personal identity the central question of his movement. Barron contends that Christianity is distinctive precisely because its core concern is not Jesus' teaching but who Jesus is. He draws on the figure of Peter — called both Simon and Peter throughout the New Testament — to articulate what he calls the dual nature of the church: fallen and scandal-ridden on one side, and rock-solid and divinely guaranteed on the other. He closes by noting the empirical strangeness of the church's survival across two millennia, outlasting every empire and political order that has tried to prevail against it, and points to the current pontificate of Pope Leo XIV as the living continuation of that succession.
Key Takeaways
FULL TRANSCRIPT
The Peculiarity of Jesus' Question at Caesarea Philippi
Bishop Barron: Peace be with you, friends. For this 21st Sunday of Ordinary Time, the church brings us once again with Jesus and the disciples to Caesarea Philippi and a famous question. It's interesting to me — I've been preaching now for 40 years — how often this scene comes up liturgically, how often the church wants us to return to Caesarea Philippi and to the question posed by Jesus.
The main characters in this little scene would be Jesus and Peter. Whenever the focus is on Peter, we're talking about ecclesiology — the study of the church. Peter is the symbol of the church. And so we're going to learn something very important here about both Jesus and the church, but we have to unpack the dynamics of this scene. Endlessly fascinating, I find. Now over 2,000 years, the church keeps returning to the scene and drawing insight from it.
So here's the first thing to notice. Jesus turns to his disciples and says, "Who do people say that the Son of Man is?" I want you to see how peculiar that question is. Think of any other religious figure or founder over the centuries. The Buddha would never say to his followers, "Who do people say that I am?" No, he'd say, "I've discovered enlightenment. Under the Bodhi tree, I came to enlightenment. I awakened from a kind of spiritual slumber, and I have discerned a spiritual path that will help others toward enlightenment." But who are you? "Well, I'm the Buddha — the one that's enlightened, that woke up." But the focus is not on him personally; it's on his teaching.
Moses — can you imagine Moses in front of his people saying, "Who do people say that I am?" What are you talking about? You're Moses. You're the son of Hebrew parents, raised in the Egyptian court, then you escaped, and now you've led your people to freedom. You're the giver of the law, the leader of the people. Terrific. But the focus isn't on you personally, on your nature. It's on the Torah that came through you, through your leadership, and so on.
Same with Confucius. Same with Muhammad. He would never say, "What's the ontological makeup of Muhammad?" Muslims don't care about that. They care that he was given this revelation and that he's the bearer and spokesman for it, but they wouldn't look at his own being as of great significance.
Then there's Jesus. He doesn't say here, "What are they saying about my teaching? I gave the Sermon on the Mount — what do they think? Good reaction? How are the crowds taking it? Do they think I'm saying true things?" Those would be reasonable enough questions. I could say to my audience, "Do you like these sermons, or the book I wrote? Did you appreciate that?" But what if I looked into this camera and said to all of you, "Who do you say that I am?" Well, you'd think I'd lost my mind — and you'd be right. And yet, that's Jesus. "Who do people say that the Son of Man is?"
Notice something else. In the letters of Paul — the earliest Christian literature we have — there's hardly a mention of Jesus' teaching, only occasional indirect references to it. But there's an enormous interest in who he is. Look at the early councils of the church. They're not talking about Jesus' teaching or his parables or the Sermon on the Mount. They're massively interested in who he is. All the talk about "God from God, light from light, true God from true God" — all the technical language about nature, person, hypostasis — all of it is to describe who he is. Because that's the heart of Christianity, and that's the focus of the church up and down the ages. Yes, Jesus' teaching — of course we reference it — but the fundamental question is: who is he? The church provides the answer to that question across the ages. You want to know the basic task of the church? That's it. And it comes from this peculiar question.
Peter's Confession and the Foundation of the Church
Now here's the next thing we discern. They replied, "Some say John the Baptist, others Elijah, still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets." They're taking a public opinion poll. These disciples of Jesus would have been hearing from the crowds, and I'm sure this is right — they would have picked up these various theories. He's the reincarnation of these great prophets. He's like John the Baptist, come back to life.
If today, in a more sophisticated way, we took a public opinion poll — "Who is Jesus? What do you say Jesus is?" — we'd get a lot of similar answers, and a variety of other answers too. "Oh, he's a religious founder. He's a moral teacher. He's a mystic. He's a guru. He was a sage. He was this poor man killed by the Romans." Public opinion would give you a range of impressions.
So then Jesus turns to the twelve. "Okay, yeah — that's what the people are saying. Who do you say I am?" It's interesting, isn't it, that no one speaks. He's just turned to his inner circle, to the leaders of his group — the elite, you might say, the aristocrats following him. They don't have an answer. The church is not a democracy based upon public opinion, nor is it really an aristocracy based upon the consensus of the elite. Who speaks up? Peter. Peter speaks up. "You are the Christ, the Son of the living God."
Peter knows who Jesus is. And that's the most important thing to know. Peter speaks here with the authority of the church in knowing who Jesus is. What's the job of the church, led by Peter and his successors up and down the ages? To keep proclaiming this truth: we know who he is. We know who he is. We know who he is. Everything else follows from that. I'm not saying that's the exclusive claim of the church, but it's the central claim of the church. It comes not from opinion, not even from the consensus of the aristocracy. It comes mystically and by a special charism to Peter and his successors.
So listen to Jesus. "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, Simon Bar-Jonah, you are Peter" — Kepha, he would have said in Aramaic. Kepha rendered Petrus in Greek, Petrus in Latin, hence Peter in English. Rock. Rocky. "And upon this rock, I will build my church." What's the church built upon? Not common consensus, not aristocratic consensus. It's based upon this mystical claim. And it's Peter and his successors who are given the prerogative of announcing this up and down the ages. That's the rock.
The Church Outlasting Every Empire
Now, I think I told this story before. It was when Pope Benedict XVI was elected, and Cardinal George — my great mentor — was there. Benedict appears on the loggia of St. Peter's after the election, waving to the crowds, with this weirdly pensive expression. They asked him later what it was. He said, "Well, I was thinking about Rome and all the Roman emperors and where they lived over on the Palatine Hill. And then I was wondering — where are they? Where are the Roman emperors? Where's the successor of Julius Caesar or Augustus Caesar?" And he said, "They're nowhere. That whole thing has turned to dust. But the successor of Peter, mysteriously, is right there waving at the crowd."
What does Jesus say? "Upon this rock, I'll build my church, and the gates of the Netherworld will not prevail against it." Every kingdom we can name from the ancient world — Greece and Rome and Babylon and Egypt — come up through the Middle Ages, come into modern times, including Hitler's thousand-year Reich and Stalin's communism. Napoleon's empire. Where are they? Where are they? They've all turned to dust. But weirdly, we're still here.
And I submit to you that is a strange proposition. Predicted here 2,000 years ago in Caesarea Philippi: "You are Peter, and upon this rock of your confession of who I am, I will build the church that will prevail against even the power of hell." It's not like I'm making something up. This is empirically verifiable. Now, since Benedict, we've had two further popes — now Leo XIV, gloriously reigning. The successor of Peter who knows who Jesus is, and upon that rock, the church rests.
The Dual Nature of the Church: Simon and Peter
Now here's just the last thing. I got this from Fulton Sheen. I've been reading a lot of him recently because we're about to beatify him, as I record these words. He talks about the dual nature of this figure. Why? Well, he's called Simon and Peter. Even as Jesus addresses him — "Blessed are you, Simon, son of Jonah. But I'm going to give you a new name: Kepha, Rocky, Petrus, Peter." But throughout the New Testament, he's referred to by both names, and sometimes both together: Simon Peter.
Fulton Sheen's observation was that it's a beautiful signal of the dual nature of the church. The Simon side of this man: unsure, unreliable, vacillating, impetuous. At the moment of truth, someone who denies he even knows Jesus, who along with the other disciples runs from him. Think about that. Jesus — the center of their lives, their Lord and Messiah — and when the moment of truth came, they all fled. Simon. What does that stand for? It stands for the fallen, flawed, imperfect, corrupt, scandal-ridden side of the church. Try denying it. Open up any page of church history and what are you going to find? Corruption in the church — yes, even in the top leadership.
We had a great professor when I was a kid at Mundelein Seminary, Father Charlie Meyer. Charlie had taught church history for the longest time, and he took a certain delight in sharing the stories of the corrupt popes of the Middle Ages and so on. In a way, that was good, because it immunized me — so that when in my own lifetime great scandal broke out in the church, I thought: well, yes, there's a Simon dimension to the church.
But Fulton Sheen insists there's also this Petrine dimension — Peter, Petrus, Kepha, the Rock. In the measure that the church, led by the successor of Peter, knows who Jesus is and embodies that knowledge in its sacramental life and the witness of its saints, it remains the rock. Permanent, absolute, resistant to any attempt to undermine it. The church that has endured down the ages, against which the gates of hell will not prevail. Both Simon — yes, in his fallen nature — and Peter.
So go back, everybody. Go to your Bibles. Go back to the scene in Matthew Chapter 16. Visit with these disciples at Caesarea Philippi. See the Lord Jesus right there, turning toward you and saying, "Who do you say that I am?" Everything depends upon the way you answer that question. And thank God we have the guarantee of Peter and his successors who know who Jesus is.
God bless you.