‘How many keys?’

To see in a poor Galilean the fulfilment of Israel’s deepest yearnings is no simple feat. To see in a wandering teacher of torah and critic of smug religion with whom the anawim seek hope and healing the fulfilment of Israel’s deepest yearnings is no simple feat. 

That which is curse and nonsense in the eyes of the world – a poor Christ who shares the very life of God, who invites a Christ-like participation in Creativity that returns us to ourselves – is true wisdom and blessing.

Peter is blessed, says Jesus, because his confession is no ordinary confession. God has been at work in him – and in the hearts of the other disciples – to make such confession possible. In other words, Peter’s confession is divine revelation. 

God is revealing love in/for the world, in/through faithful and fallible people like Peter … the “rock foundation” of the church.

For Matthew’s late-first-century community, impetuous and imperfect Peter represents the faith. The gospel clearly comes down on the side of Peter’s leadership. 

Whether this community is located in Antioch or somewhere else, it considers James’s community in Jerusalem too inflexible in matters of halacha (Jewish law and practice) and Paul’s communities scattered around the Hellenistic world too lax. 

Matthew’s church, and consequently gospel, seek a middle way, one where Gentile converts are accepted but where all are bound by an authoritative structure of halachic observance (religious ritual and discipline).

The “keys” (plural) Jesus gives to Peter, then, unlock ancient mysteries and promises. They are keys to the scriptures and traditions of God’s people. 

How many keys do we imagine? 

The famous statue of Peter in St Peter’s Square holds two keys – one for each covenant, or keys to the heavenly and earthly realms. “Jesus affirms that the Goodness of our imagined heaven is the goodness we create and witness in our human-ness” (Sylvia ‘Akau’ola Tongotongo).

Perhaps, as has been suggested, Peter holds eight keys – one for each of the beatitudes. 

Perhaps there are 12 – symbolising the renewal of God’s people. 

Or perhaps, like me, you see 24 – 12 major and 12 minor keys in which to offer praise and lament.

Karen Armstrong writes: “Religious insight requires not only a dedicated intellectual endeavour to get beyond the ‘idols of thought’ but also a compassionate lifestyle that enables us to break out of the prism of selfhood. 

“Aggressive logos, which seeks to master, control and kill off the opposition, cannot bring this transcendent insight. Experience proved that this was only possible if people cultivated a receptive, listening attitude, not unlike the way we approach art, music or poetry. It required kenosis, ‘negative capability’, ‘wise passiveness’ and a heart that ‘watches and receives’ …”

Peter’s keys are these (at least these): faith and practice, humility and love. He will err, deny his love for Jesus and seek forgiveness. He will recommit and keep trying – “transformed by the renewal of his mind”.

Armstrong continues, with reference to Peter and all people of faith: “From almost the very beginning, men and women have repeatedly engaged in strenuous and committed religious activity. They evolved mythologies, rituals and ethical disciplines that brought them intimations of holiness that seemed in some indescribable way to enhance and fulfil their humanity. 

“They were not religious simply because their myths and doctrines were scientifically or historically sound, because they sought information about the origins of the cosmos, or merely because they wanted a better life in the hereafter … The point of religion was to live intensely and richly here and now. 

“Religious people are ambitious. They want lives overflowing with significance. They have always desired to integrate with their daily lives the moments of rapture and insight that came to them in dreams, in their contemplation of nature.

“Instead of being crushed and embittered by the sorrow of life, they sought to retain their peace and serenity in the midst of their pain. They yearned for the courage to overcome their terror of mortality; instead of being grasping and mean-spirited, they aspired to live generously, large-heartedly and justly and to inhabit every single part of their humanity …

“They tried to honour the ineffable mystery they sensed in each human being and create societies that honoured the stranger, the alien, the poor and the oppressed. Of course, they often failed. But overall, they found that the disciplines of religion helped them to do all this. 

“Those who applied themselves most assiduously showed that it was possible for mortal men and women to live on a higher, divine or godlike plane and thus wake up to their true selves.”

To see in a poor Galilean, a wandering teacher of torah and critic of smug religion with whom the anawim seek hope and healing, the fulfilment of Israel’s deepest yearnings, is no simple feat. 

That which is curse and nonsense in the eyes of the world – a poor Christ who shares the very life of God, who invites a Christ-like participation in Creativity that returns us to ourselves – is true wisdom and blessing. Amen.