Jesus of Nazareth

by Joseph Ratzinger

  Today it is fashionable to regard Jesus as one of the great religious founders who were granted a profound experience of God. They can thus speak of God to other people who have been denied this "religious disposition," as it were, drawing them into their own experience of God. However, we are still dealing here with a human experience of God that reflects his infinite reality in the finitude and limitation of a human spirit: It can therefore never amount to more than a partial, not to mention time-and space-bound, translation of the divine. The word experience thus indicates on one hand a real contact with the divine, while also acknowledging the limitation of the receiving subject. Every human subject can capture only a particular fragment of the reality that is there to be perceived, and this fragment then requires further interpretation. Someone who holds this opinion can certainly love Jesus; he can even choose him as a guide for his own life. Ultimately, though, this notion of Jesus' "experience of God" remains purely relative and needs to be supplemented by the fragments of reality perceived by other great men. It is man, the individual subject, who ends up being himself the measure: The individual decides what he is going to accept from the various "experiences," what he finds helpful and what he finds alien. There is no definitive commitment here.

  Standing in marked contrast to the opinion of the people is the "recognition" of the disciples, which expresses itself in acknowledgment, in confession. How is this confession worded? Each of the three Synoptics formulates it differently, and John's formula is different again. According to Mark, Peter simply says to Jesus: "You are the Messiah [the Christ]" (Mk 8:29). According to Luke, Peter calls him "the Christ [the anointed one] of God" (Lk 9:20), and according to Matthew he says: "You are the Christ [the Messiah], the Son of the living God" (Mt 16:16). In John's Gospel, finally, Peter's confession is as follows: "You are the Holy One of God" (Jn 6:69).

  One could be tempted to construct a history of the evolution of the Christian confession from these various versions. There is no doubt that the diversity of the texts does reflect a process of development through which something at first only tentatively grasped gradually emerges into full clarity. Among recent Catholic exegetes, Pierre Grelot has offered the most radical interpretation of the contrasts between the texts: What he sees is not evolution, but contradiction (Les Paroles de Jesus Christ). According to Grelot, Peter's simple confession of Jesus' Messiahship as transmitted by Mark is doubtless an accurate record of the historical moment; for, he continues, we are still dealing here with a purely "Jewish" confession that saw Jesus as a political Messiah in accordance with the ideas of the time. Only the Markan account, he argues, is logically consistent, because only a political messianism would explain Peter's protest against the prophecy of the Passion, a protest that Jesus sharply rejects, as once he rejected Satan's offer of lordship over the world: "Get behind me, Satan! For you are not on the side of God, but of men" (Mk 8:33). This brusque rebuff, says Grelot, makes sense only if it applies also to the confession that went before, and declares this too to be false. Placed after the theologically mature version of the confession in Matthew's Gospel, the rebuff no longer makes sense.

  The conclusion that Grelot draws from this is one that he shares with those exegetes who disagree with his rather negative interpretation of the Markan text: namely, that Matthew's version of the confession represents a post-Resurrection saying, since, in the view of the great majority of commentators, it was only after the Resurrection that such a confession could be formulated. Grelot goes on to connect this with his special theory of an appearance of the Risen Lord to Peter, which he places alongside the encounter with the Lord that Paul regarded as the foundation of his own apostolate. Jesus' words to Peter, Blessed are you, Simon Bar Jona, "for flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father who is in heaven" (Mt 16:17), have a remarkable parallel in the Letter to the Galatians: "But when he who had set me apart before I was born, and had called me through his grace, was pleased to reveal his Son to me, in order that I might preach him among the Gentiles, I did not confer with flesh and blood" (Gal 1:15f.; cf. 1:11f.: "The gospel which was preached by me is not man's gospel. For I did not receive it from man, nor was I taught it, but it came through a revelation of Jesus Christ"). Common to both the Pauline text and to Jesus' commendation of Peter are the reference to Revelation and the declaration that this knowledge does not derive "from flesh and blood."

  Grelot now concludes from all this that Peter, like Paul, was honored with a special appearance of the risen Christ (to which several New Testament texts do in fact refer) and that, just like Paul, who was also granted such an appearance, he received his specific commission on that occasion. Peter's mission was to the Church of the Jews, while Paul's was to the Church of the Gentiles (Gal 2:7). The promise to Peter, Grelot maintains, properly belongs to the risen Christ's appearance to him, and its content has to be seen as a strict parallel to the commission that Paul received from the exalted Lord. There is no need to enter here into a detailed discussion of this theory, especially since this book, being a book about Jesus, is primarily concerned with the Lord himself, and deals with the topic of the Church only insofar as it is necessary for a correct understanding of the figure of Jesus.

  Anyone who reads Galatians 1:11-17 attentively can easily recognize not only the parallels but also the differences between the two texts. Paul clearly intends in this passage to emphasize the independence of his apostolic commission, which is not derived from the authority of others, but is granted by the Lord himself; what is at stake here for him is precisely the universality of his mission and the specificity of his path as one engaged in building up the Church of the Gentiles. But Paul also knows that if his ministry is to be valid, he needs communio (koinonia) with the original Apostles (cf. Gal 2:9), and that without this communio he would be running in vain (cf. Gal 2:2). For this reason, after three years in Arabia and Damascus following his conversion, he went up to Jerusalem in order to see Peter (Cephas); thereafter he also met James, the brother of the Lord (cf. 1:18f.). For the same reason, fourteen years later, this time together with Barnabas and Titus, he traveled to Jerusalem and received the sign of communio from the "pillars," James, Cephas, and John, who extended to him the right hand of fellowship (cf. Gal 2:9). First Peter, and then later the three pillars, are thus presented as the guarantors of communio, as its indispensable reference points, who vouch for the correctness and unity of the Gospel and so of the nascent Church.

  But this also brings to light the indisputable significance of the historical Jesus, of his preaching and of his decisions. The Risen Lord called Paul and gave him his own authority and his own commission, but the same Lord had previously chosen the Twelve, had entrusted Peter with a special commission, had gone with them to Jerusalem, had suffered there on the Cross, and had risen on the third day. The first Apostles guarantee this continuity (Acts 1:21f.), and this continuity explains why the commission given to Peter is actually fundamentally different from the commission given to Paul.

  The special commission of Peter figures not only in Matthew, but in different forms (though always with the same substance) in Luke and John and even in Paul. In his passionate apologia in the Letter to the Galatians, Paul very clearly presupposes Peter's special commission; this primacy is in fact attested by the whole spectrum of the tradition in all of its diverse strands. To trace it back purely to a personal Easter appearance, and thus to place it in an exact parallel to Paul's mission, is simply not justified by the New Testament data.

  But it is now time to return to Peter's confession of Christ and so to our actual topic. We saw that Grelot presents the confession of Peter transmitted in Mark as completely "Jewish," and hence bound to be repudiated by Jesus. There is, however, no such repudiation in the text, in which Jesus merely forbids the disciples to speak openly of this confession, given that it would undoubtedly have been misinterpreted in the public climate of Israel and would necessarily have led on one hand to false hopes in him and on the other hand to pol
itical action against him. Only after this prohibition does the explanation of what "Messiah" really means then follow: The true Messiah is the "Son of Man," who is condemned to death as the precondition for his entrance into glory as the one who rose from death after three days.

  Scholars speak of two types of confessional formula in relation to early Christianity, the "substantive" and the "verbal"; perhaps it would be clearer to speak of an "ontological" and a "salvation history" type of confession. All three forms of Peter's confession transmitted to us by the Synoptics are "substantive"--you are the Christ, the Christ of God, the Christ, the Son of the living God. The Lord always sets a "verbal" confession alongside these substantive statements: the prophetic announcement of the Paschal Mystery of Cross and Resurrection. The two types of confession belong together, and each one is incomplete and ultimately unintelligible without the other. Without the concrete history of salvation, Christ's titles remain ambiguous: not only the word "Messiah," but also "Son of the living God." For this title is equally capable of being understood in a sense that is opposed to the mystery of the Cross.

  Conversely, the bald "salvation history" statement remains without its full depth unless it is made clear that he who suffered here is the Son of the living God, who is equal to God (cf. Phil 2:6), but emptied himself and became like a slave, abasing himself to death, even death on the Cross (cf. Phil 2:7f.). It is therefore only the combination of Peter's confession and Jesus' teaching of the disciples that furnishes us with the full, essential Christian faith. By the same token, the great creedal statements of the Church always linked the two dimensions together.

  Yet we know that through all the centuries, right up to the present, Christians--while in possession of the right confession--need the Lord to teach every generation anew that his way is not the way of earthly power and glory, but the way of the Cross. We know and we see that even today Christians--ourselves included--take the Lord aside in order to say to him: "God forbid it, Lord! This shall never happen to you!" (Mt 16:22). And because we doubt that God really will forbid it, we ourselves try to prevent it by every means in our power. And so the Lord must constantly say to us, too: "Get behind me, Satan!" (Mk 8:33). The whole scene thus remains uncomfortably relevant to the present, because in the end we do in fact constantly think in terms of "flesh and blood," and not in terms of the Revelation that we are privileged to receive in faith.

  We must return once more to the titles of Christ used in the confessions. The first important point is that the respective form of the title must be read within the total context of the individual Gospels and the specific form in which they have been handed down. In this regard, there is always an important connection with the trial of Jesus, in which the confession of the disciples reappears in the form of question and accusation. In Mark, the high priest's question takes up the title Christ (Messiah) and extends it: "Are you the Messiah, the Son of the Blessed?" (Mk 14:61). This question implies that such interpretations of the figure of Jesus had found their way from the circle of the disciples into public knowledge. The linking of the titles "Christ" (Messiah) and "Son" was in keeping with biblical tradition (cf. Ps 2:7; Ps 110). Looked at from this perspective, the difference between Mark's and Matthew's versions of the confession now appears only relative and far less significant than Grelot and other exegetes would claim. According to Luke, as we have seen, Peter confesses Jesus as "the Anointed One [Christ, Messiah] of God." Here we see again what the old man Simeon had known concerning the child Jesus, it having been revealed to him that this child was the Anointed One (Christ) of the Lord (cf. Lk 2:26). The rulers of the people present a counterimage of this when they mock Jesus under the Cross, saying, "He saved others; let him save himself, if he is the Christ of God, his Chosen One!" (Lk 23:35). There is thus an arc stretching from Jesus' childhood up over the confession at Caesarea Philippi and down to the Cross. Taken together, the three texts display the unique sense in which the "Anointed One" belongs to God.

  There is, however, another incident from the Gospel of Luke that is important for the disciples' faith in Jesus: the story of the abundant catch of fish that ends with the calling of Simon Peter and his companions into discipleship. These experienced fishermen have caught nothing during the whole night, and now Jesus instructs them to put out to sea again in broad daylight and cast out their nets. This seems to make little sense according to the practical knowledge of these men, but Simon answers: "Master, we toiled all night and took nothing! But at your word I will let down the nets" (Lk 5:5). This is followed by the overflowing catch of fish, which profoundly alarms Peter. He falls at Jesus' feet in the posture of adoration and says: "Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord" (Lk 5:8). In what has just happened, Peter recognizes the power of God himself working through Jesus' words, and this direct encounter with the living God in Jesus shakes him to the core of his being. In the light of this presence, and under its power, man realizes how pitifully small he is. He cannot bear the awe-inspiring grandeur of God--it is too enormous for him. Even in terms of all the different religions, this text is one of the most powerful illustrations of what happens when man finds himself suddenly and directly exposed to the proximity of God. At that point, he can only be alarmed at himself and beg to be freed from the overwhelming power of this presence. This inner realization of the proximity of God himself in Jesus suddenly breaks in upon Peter and finds expression in the title that he now uses for Jesus: "Kyrios" (Lord). It is the designation for God that was used in the Old Testament as a substitute for the unutterable divine name given from the burning bush. Whereas before putting out from the shore, Peter called Jesus epistata, which means "master," "teacher," "rabbi," he now recognizes him as the Kyrios.

  We find a similar situation in the story of how Jesus approaches the disciples' boat across the storm-tossed lake. Peter now asks the Lord to bid him walk upon the waters as well--toward Jesus. When he is about to sink, he is rescued by the outstretched hand of Jesus, who then also gets into the boat. But just at this moment the wind subsides. And now the same thing happens that we saw in the story about the abundant haul of fish: The disciples in the boat fall down before Jesus, in an expression at once of terror and adoration, and they confess: "Truly you are the Son of God" (Mt 14:22-33). These and other experiences, found throughout the Gospels, lay a clear foundation for Peter's confession as reported in Matthew 16:16. In various ways, the disciples were repeatedly able to sense in Jesus the presence of the living God himself.

  Before we attempt to put together a complete picture out of all of these pieces of mosaic, we still must cast a brief glance at the confession of Peter in John's Gospel. Jesus' eucharistic discourse, which John places after the multiplication of the loaves, could be considered as a public continuation of Jesus' No to the tempter's invitation to transform stones into bread--the temptation, that is, to see his mission in terms of generating material prosperity. Jesus draws attention instead to the relationship with the living God and to the love that comes from him; therein lies the truly creative power that gives meaning, and also provides bread. Jesus thus interprets his own mystery, his own self, in light of his gift of himself as the living bread. The people do not like this; many go away. Jesus thereupon asks the Twelve: Do you want to leave me as well? Peter answers: "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life, and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God" (Jn 6:68f.).

  We will need to ponder this version of Peter's confession more closely in the context of the Last Supper. It clearly reveals Jesus' priestly mystery (Psalm 106:16 calls Aaron "the holy one of God"). This title points backward to the eucharistic discourse and it points forward, along with this discourse, to the mystery of Jesus' Cross; it is thus anchored in the Paschal Mystery, in the heart of Jesus' mission, and it indicates what makes the figure of Christ completely different from the then current forms of messianic hope. The Holy One of God--that also reminds us, however, of how Peter quails when brought face-to-face with t
he proximity of the holy after the abundant catch of fish, when he dramatically experiences his wretchedness as a sinner. We find ourselves immersed in the context of the disciples' experience of Jesus, which we have tried to understand on the basis of certain key moments of their journey in fellowship with him.

  So what firm conclusion can we draw from all this? The first thing to say is that the attempt to arrive at a historical reconstruction of Peter's original words and then to attribute everything else to posterior developments, and possibly to post-Easter faith, is very much on the wrong track. Where is post-Easter faith supposed to have come from if Jesus laid no foundation for it before Easter? Scholarship overplays its hand with such reconstructions.

  It is during Jesus' trial before the Sanhedrin that we see what was actually scandalous about him: not a political messianism--that had manifested itself with Barabbas and would do so again with Bar-Kokhba. Both men gained a following and both movements were put down by the Romans. What scandalized people about Jesus was exactly what we have already seen in connection with Rabbi Neusner's conversation with the Jesus of the Sermon on the Mount: He seemed to be putting himself on an equal footing with the living God himself. This was what the strictly monotheistic faith of the Jews was unable to accept. This was the idea to which even Jesus could only slowly and gradually lead people. This was also what permeated his entire message--while preserving unbroken unity with faith in the one God; this was what was new, characteristic, and unique about his message. The fact that Jesus' trial was then presented to the Romans as the trial of a political Messiah reflects the pragmatism of the Sadducees. But even Pilate sensed that something completely different was really at stake here--that anyone who really seemed to be a politically promising "king" would never have been handed over to him to be condemned.