Reflection for August 23, 2026

Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time (A)

Isaiah 22:19-23 | Psalm 138: 1-2, 2-3, 6, 8 | Romans 11: 33-36 | Matthew 16: 13-20

​On this Twenty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time, Isaiah reminds us that those who remain faithful will receive their reward from God. St. Paul, in his letter to the Romans, reminds us that all our theologizing should ultimately lead us to worship and praise God. And finally, the Gospel reminds us that we are continually being transformed by Jesus’ love, forgiveness, and patience.

​A busload of politicians was cruising down a quiet country road when surprise, surprise the bus suddenly left the road and crashed into a tree in an old farmer’s field. Farmer Broderick heard the commotion, walked over, and found the politicians scattered around the wreck. Being a practical man, he grabbed a shovel and buried them. A few days later, Police Chief Gaudencio arrived to investigate the abandoned bus. “Where are all the politicians?” he asked. “I buried them,” Broderick calmly replied. The chief looked shocked. “You buried them? Were they ALL dead?” Broderick paused, scratched his head, and said, “Well, some of them insisted they weren’t.” Then he shrugged. “But you know politicians. They’re always lying!” The chief stared at him in silence. Broderick smiled. “Besides, Chief, I thought it was safer to trust the shovel than their promises.”

Isaiah prophesied during the reign of King Hezekiah, a king devoted to the Lord. In the First Reading (Isaiah 22:15–25), we encounter the al-bayith, literally “over the household,” the royal official who served as prime minister and acted with the king’s authority. He wore a robe of honor, was called a “father,” and held the keys of the house of David, symbolizing the power to “bind and loose.” His office carried great responsibility, with the weight of his household resting on his shoulders. Eliakim was entrusted with this authority because of his faithfulness, while Shebna was removed for using his position for self-glorification and making decisions contrary to God’s will. The passage reminds us that political power is never absolute. Ultimately, judgment belongs to God. Leaders may possess authority, but “might does not make right.” The truly faithful will receive their reward, while those who abuse power for selfish ends will face God’s judgment.

One day, Jesus visited a prestigious theological school in Quezon City and decided to give the seminarians a little oral exam. Jesus asked, “Who do you say that I am?” The seminarians looked at one another, cleared their throats, adjusted their glasses, and prepared to impress their professor. One finally answered, “You are the eschatological manifestation of the ontological ground of our being, the incarnational expression of the kerygma through which we discover the ultimate meaning of our interpersonal relationship with the transcendent.” Jesus stared at them. Silence. Then Jesus slowly scratched His head and said: “Guys… I just asked, ‘Who am I?’” One seminarian nervously replied, “Actually, Lord, that question requires further hermeneutical clarification.” Jesus sighed. “Peter,” He whispered, “I miss you.”

In his Letter to the Romans, St. Paul reminds us that God’s wisdom and knowledge are far beyond human understanding. His judgments are unsearchable, and His ways are beyond our comprehension. No theologian can fully know the mind of the Lord, and no theological system, however venerable, can claim to explain God completely. As St. Augustine wisely said, “If you can grasp it, it isn’t God.”
God knows us completely, from the beginning to the end of our lives, yet we can never fully grasp His infinite wisdom. There comes a point when every theologian must lay down the pen and humbly acknowledge the limits of human understanding. Theology, therefore, must ultimately become doxology—it must lead us to worship. All our parish formation, Bible studies, catechesis, and theological learning should bring us to deeper humility and praise. If our study of God does not lead us to worship Him more deeply, perhaps we have missed its true purpose.

A Japanese sensei once gathered his students for a lesson on kintsugi, the art of repairing broken pottery with gold. He placed a beautiful bowl on the table and accidentally knocked it to the floor. It shattered. The students gasped. “Sensei, the bowl is ruined!” one said. The old teacher smiled. “No. It has become a story.” He carefully gathered the pieces and repaired them with golden lacquer. When he finished, the cracks were clearly visible, but they had become the most beautiful part of the bowl. One student asked, “Why not hide the cracks?” The sensei replied, “Because what has been broken should not always be hidden. Sometimes the repair becomes part of the beauty.” Through love, forgiveness, and patience. Perhaps we are kintsugi people too: broken, restored, and made useful by grace.

Our Gospel finds Jesus and His disciples in Caesarea Philippi, a cosmopolitan center near Mount Hermon known for the worship of the Greek god Pan. In this setting, Jesus asks, “Who do you say that I am?” Simon Peter responds, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God!” Catholic tradition sees in this passage the foundation of the Petrine office. Echoing Isaiah 22:15–25, Jesus entrusts Peter with the “keys of the kingdom” and gives him the authority to “bind and loose.” Yet Peter was far from perfect. He was impulsive, easily distracted, slow to understand, and even denied Jesus three times. His personality was truly “rocky,” yet Jesus chose him to become the rock upon which His Church would be built. This is the beauty of the Gospel: Jesus does not wait for perfect people. He transforms flawed people through His love, forgiveness, and patience. The Church is made up of “rocky lives” like ours. Despite human failures and scandals, I remain because Jesus never gave up on Peter, nor will He abandon His Church. As St. Paul reminds us, God places His treasures in “jars of clay” (2 Corinthians 4:7). He can transform our weakness into a foundation for His Church.

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