my mother gave me the key to our house, she made it seem as if I was being handed the nuclear code. I was about ten years old. But she handed it to me as though she was giving me a priceless heirloom. Then came a stream of instructions that sounded like the Ten Commandments of Key Responsibility. She asked me to hold my two earlobes with my hands, then started: “You must never give it to anyone else. You must never remove it from your inner pocket, except to open the door. You must not play football (soccer) with the key in your pocket. You must not lose it. Is that clear enough?” I nodded. Then, “Alright, bye and let me not hear any stories about the key.”
This was just a key or a bunch of keys, you would say; yet, a great deal of responsibility went with it. The point is that to have access to the key implies having unfettered access to the entire house. You could never give the key to your house to a total stranger or someone you do not absolutely trust.
But keys mean much more. In biblical language, keys symbolize power and authority. When the first reading of today speaks about the transfer of the key of the House of David from Shebna to Eliakim (Isaiah 22:19-23), you cannot imagine that Isaiah was speaking about the kind of keys that my mother gave me. Would you? Shebna, who was the Prime Minister in the court of King Hezekiah of Judah, 700 years before Christ, was rather dethroned because of corruption while Eliakim was elevated to the office.
Keys also signify in biblical language a “perfect fit”—that is, one most suited for the position. Thus, God says through Isaiah, “I will fix him like a peg into a firm place” (Isaiah 22:23)—again signifying stability. When nine years ago, I asked Bishop Slattery why he chose me to be the rector of Holy Family Cathedral, he stated that “it was a perfect fit.”
These and much more are the expressions Jesus used in today’s Gospel as He spoke to Peter about keys. He starts off the conversation asking: “Who do people say the Son of Man is?” Every Jew raised in his religious tradition knew that God’s name wasn’t pronounced—out of fear of blasphemy. Yet Peter dares to say that this enquirer before him was the Son of the Living God. That’s something a pious Jew wouldn’t say. But it appeared like he caught straight into the core of Jesus’ being to reveal both His personality and mission. This person knew Him well, or rather must have got a hint from no other than God Himself, and was well deserving of trust. He can be entrusted with the keys. And Jesus concurs: “Flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my heavenly father” (Matt 16:17). From here, we draw the Church’s teaching on papal infallibility: his knowledge is infused and his teaching carries divine import.
What does Jesus do? He changes this man’s name from Simon to Peter, as happened to several biblical figures and personalities with divine mission—Abram to Abraham (father of many nations), Jacob to Israel (image of God’s people), Simon to Peter (vicar of Christ, leader of the Universal Church); then, Josef Ratzinger to Benedict XVI, and Jorge Bergoglio to Francis.
Jesus calls him cepha [rock or pebble], avoiding the use of “Sur” [Rock], reserved for God, and says that He would build His Church upon this rock. He further promises that death (the netherworld) would not be able to bring this rock to an end; meaning that this mission will continue in succession from Peter to Linus to Clement to John Paul to Benedict to Francis. The superior Keys of the Kingdom carry power and authority to bind and loose heaven’s gate to people. And so, if someone again snarkily cajoles that you worship the pope—which we certainly don’t—remind them that Peter is listening and that she might risk being locked out. Okay, don’t do that; tell them that you’re praying for them.
Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo