The Roman Catholic Church has often seen this text as establishing itself and its succession of popes as the legitimate church. In an essay on the official Roman Catholic web site, Fritz Tuttle writes that our text is where Jesus promised to build a structure, and he authorized Simon Peter as the head of the church. Tuttle also argues that our text only legitimizing the church that maintains “the See of Peter” with the power of binding and loosing saying, “The Catholic Church is the only church that can claim to have been founded by Christ personally. Every other church traces its lineage back to a mere human person such as Martin Luther or John Wesley. The Catholic Church can trace its lineage back to Jesus Christ who appointed St. Peter as the first pope. This line of popes has continued unbroken for almost 2,000 years.” That is one of those claims that many folks within the Catholic Church see as plainly obvious and many folks outside of the Catholic Church see as a way of trying to legitimize its power.

Not to be outdone, Protestant Christians have also used this text as a way of legitimizing its own reach for power. Only, because of the historical baggage, Protestants typically interpret our text through the “Great Commission” of Matthew 28, where Jesus uses the plural voice in saying to all of the apostles [i.e. the “priesthood of all believers”] that “you shall receive power after the Holy Spirit has come upon you.” It is the same grasp for power, but in an egalitarian voice – as long as the egalitarianism only reaches to “us.” So, when Protestants read this text, we tend to see not Peter – and certainly not any succession of men who are appointed to stand in the position of Peter – but the confession “You are the Christ” itself as being “the rock” on which the church is built.

Regardless of how it is put through the ecclesiastical “spin” cycle, I would like to make a distinction, between reading this text as an “authorizing” text and reading it as a “legitimizing” text. I do not claim to have any great insights into the differences implies in those words, but I would like to stipulate one. An “authorizing” text – as I am using the word – points to a text where Jesus, like an author of a book, has the power and privilege of naming what the church is to be. A “legitimizing” text – as I am using it – points to a text that we might invoke to justify the church that we have become over time. Do you see the difference? As an “authorizing” text, this story provides for us an authoritative vision for what the church is supposed to be. As such, it may correspond with what we have become over time or it might speak prophetically against what we have become over time. As a “legitimizing” text, we would interpret this text in a way that provides justification for what we have become over time – we would use it to legitimate our authority, you could say. And while none of us is above “using” the Scriptures to justify ourselves, a faithful reading of this text must begin with an honest attempt to let Jesus have the final say here, and not ourselves.

As an authorizing text, here are some of the ways that we can describe the church’s purpose for existing. First, Peter makes an astounding profession of faith, when he recognizes that Jesus is not just another great prophet or inspired leader, but the “Christ,” the son of the living God.” But, Jesus says, “Blessed are you, Simon Barjonas, because flesh and blood did not reveal to you but my father in heaven.” That is to say, Jesus attributes the church’s profession of faith to God’s act of revelation, not to human ingenuity. The first way that this text authorizes the church’s purpose for existing, is that our profession of faith is utterly dependent on what God has revealed in Christ.

The second way that this text authorizes the church’s purpose for existing follows. Immediately after our story Jesus tells his disciples that he is bound to go to Jerusalem, to suffer, to die, and to rise again. When he says that, he has another – very different – encounter with Simon Peter. Peter immediately begins to rebuke Jesus for saying such a thing, saying “God forbid it, Lord. This must never happen to you.” Then Jesus looked at Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling-block to me; for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.” As long as God’s revelation is behind his profession of faith, Peter is “blessed” and “the rock” on whom Christ will build the church. But, the minute Peter begins to use his authority to divert Christ from going to the cross, the “blessed” one becomes “Satan,” and the “rock” becomes a “stumbling block.” As an authorizing text, this story says that what God has revealed in Christ is necessarily a path to the cross. Any attempt by the church to profess Christ without the cross is a demonic stumbling block.

Finally, this text authorizes the church’s purpose for existing with the words “binding” and “loosing.” These are very common terms that Jesus uses here and – as far as I can tell – not ‘good’ or ‘bad’ in themselves. The verb ‘to bind’ is used to describe tying up an attacker, bundles of wheat, animals, or prisoners like Jesus. The verb ‘to loose’ is used to describe breaking commandments, untying shoelaces, or unhitching animals. These are fairly neutral terms, sometimes used to forgive or retain sins, but not always. The curious thing, however, is that when Jesus authorizes the church to ‘bind’ and ‘loose,’ he makes the inherent connection between what we do here and now, with what is bound or loosed “in heaven.” It is very reminiscent of the prayer that Jesus taught in Matthew’s gospel, where we pray for God’s name to be hallowed, God’s reign to come, and God’s will to be done, “on earth as it is in heaven.” Whatever, exactly, the word “heaven” means, this much is clear: The church’s work is not just a matter of the mundane. It has eternal, cosmic significance. Let me illustrate by referring again to Peter’s desire for Jesus to avoid the cross. At a sheer personal level, the cross is a mindless, obscene tragedy that ought not to befall anyone, much less an innocent victim. We should all recoil at it and say “God forbid!” as Peter did. But, in a larger view, the act of Christ willingly going to the cross has enormous significance. It exposed the sinfulness of retribution; it exposed the arrogance of the Roman Empire; it exposed what happens when religion is drunk on its own power. The cross was not just a personal tragedy, as Peter saw it. It was an event with eternal, cosmic significance. The cross was that revelatory moment that broke the power of sin that has held the human community spellbound for ages. As an authorizing text, our story says that the church’s ministry has cosmic, eternal significance – as long as we continue on the journey of the cross.

When you and I read this text, filled with words about the church and its power, we quite naturally are tempted to read it in a way that legitimates who we imagine ourselves to be in God’s eyes. If we read it, however, as an authorizing text, it calls to a different place. Gone is the self-righteous notion that we have been chosen above all others to be Christ’s great voice in the world. In its place is the humbling notion that even our profession of faith is empowered by a grace that reaches far beyond our own insights or cleverness. If we read this as an authorizing text, gone is any notion that our own journey can lead anywhere except to the cross, where our claims of power and authority exposed as more like the Roman Empire than the Christ on the cross.

Something real and significant happened that day when Peter was inspired to make a profession of faith, only to follow by denying the power of the gospel made known in the cross. What happened was that, in both the inspired professing and his utterly failing Simon Peter, you and I are called the church. Simultaneously justified and sinner, we are called to live boldly in God’s world, sharing the joy and justice of the gospel, even while we live with the humility of knowing that none of us takes up the cross as Christ did. For that reason, we give thanks and offer our confession, in one voice. Thanks be to God. Amen.